Near To You
by Caitlinlaurie
Summary: AU. Years after Edward left in New Moon, Bella has moved on with her life, now living in a small town. But when her path crosses with someone from Forks, Bella must choose between the life she has made for herself and the one she is destined for. B/C On Temporary Hiatus.
1. Part I: Of Fairy Tales and Dragons

**Title:** Near To You

**Author:** Caitlinlaurie

**Rating:** M, for eventual language and smut

**Fandom:** Twilight

**Pairing:** Bella/Carlisle

**Summary:** Years after Edward left Forks in New Moon, Bella has moved on with her life. Now living in a small town, Bella has tried to live as quietly as possible. But when someone from her old life returns, Bella must choose between the life she has made for herself and the life she is destined for. Bella/Carlisle

**Warnings/Notes:** This is my first Twilight fic, and is obliviously AU. This fic goes back and forth between both POVs, and I try to stay as in character as possible. Let me know what you think! Also, this is a love story and this fic will have eventual smut, so be prepared. If you don't like the pairing, turn back now.

**Disclaimer:** All characters and their canon histories are the property of Stephenie Meyer.

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_In the tale, in the telling, we are all one blood. Take the tale in your teeth, then, and bite till the blood runs, hoping it's not poison; and we will all come to the end together, and even to the beginning: living, as we do, in the middle.  
― Ursula le Guin_

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_Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My God, do you learn.  
― C.S. Lewis_

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_Part One: Time Present and Time Past  
_

_Chapter One – Of Fairy Tales and Dragons_

_BPOV_

When I was a little girl, my favorite fairytale was Sleeping Beauty. Not the cheesy Disney version with dancing through the forest and magical fairies, incapable of doing more than being comedic entertainment, but the real version. The original one. You know the story I am sure, practically everyone does. To celebrate the birth of a daughter, this king invites the whole kingdom to his castle, including twelve wise women. There is a thirteenth, but she gets left out because of flatware or something, so of course she party crashes and dooms the baby to death. Well, instead of death, the princess sleeps for a hundred years. Yeah, that's right. One hundred years! She doesn't even get a choice in the matter. Once her finger has been pricked—well, it's all over for her.

Now, I could get deep and say how pricking her finger is a metaphor for sexual awakening and the sleep is a consequence of adult activity, but there is no need for that. The deeper meanings behind the Grimms' Fairy Tales have been done to death. But the point I am trying to make is this: Sleeping Beauty having to sleep for a hundred years, and it not even being her choice? Yeah, I get that.

See, me and Sleeping Beauty have a lot in common. Not the beauty part 'cause, let's face it, I have no claim to beauty on my best days, but the roaming the secret passage ways of the castle and discovering the hidden spinning wheel and having to pay the consequences for discovering that which should have remained hidden? I can totally relate to that.

But there is one big difference between me and Sleeping Beauty. After a hundred years, her prince showed up and they all lived happily ever. But me?

I didn't have a prince to wake me from the enchanted sleep.

My prince? The one who was supposed to waken me with a kiss? He was the one who put me into the sleep in the first place.

It happened like this…

I don't remember much about the days after Edward left me. Really, they all became a blur of sound and movement, mixing and pulsing together. It was sort of like I lost consciousness, or like I eased my way down to the bottom of a pool. I had no trouble breathing, and I could see everyone, but their voices were far away, distorted by the water. Their images were blurry, and I could see them motioning for me to resurface, but I couldn't. It was simply too much effort. I was just stuck there, tied in some sort of suspended animation.

It was like that for an entire week. I know my dad tried to get me to eat and move, but I simply couldn't. There was no part of me that knew how to live without him. If I think hard enough, I can remember staring at the cracks on my ceiling, but most of that time has disappeared into the back of my mind. Pages to a first draft thrown away, or like memories to a life I never lived.

All I remember, really and truly, is that one day my mom was there. I was told later that it was a week between when Edward left me and when my mom arrived, but it could have been years and I would believe it. My bedroom was cold, but I didn't have the strength to pull up the blanket from my feet. I could hear _Renée_and Charlie moving around, packing my things. Some part of me wanted me to move, to stop them, to fight…but I couldn't. There was no fight left in me; Edward took it all.

So I just lay there, waiting for something, waiting for death.

A moment later, I felt the chilly brush of my mother's fingertips. She always had such cool hands, so much like Edward's. I couldn't help it at that point, I started to cry. Tears were falling, and for the first time since Edward left—since I had discovered my carefully altered room devoid of the tokens that had marked his presence—I really felt my pain. Sobs shook my body, and before I knew it, I was in my mother's arms and she was hushing me gently.

"There, there, honey," my mother said soothingly. "It's all right now. You're all right now." A weight settled on the other side of us, and Charlie wrapped me in his arms from behind. His long limbs wrapped fully around me and Renée, and I think that must have been the first time they voluntarily touched since the divorce. But they were a united front for me, I guess.

"Bella, you are going to stay with your mom for a while," my dad said, his voice rumbling. He sounded emotional, but I couldn't really tell. "Maybe with some time and space, you will feel more like yourself again."

Feel. That was the problem, wasn't it? I couldn't _feel_ anything, nothing but a gaping hole in my chest, so how did he expect me to feel like myself again? Did I even remember what feeling felt like?

My mom cupped my face, wiping away my tears with the pads of her thumbs. "Is this all right, hon?" I guess she was asking me to talk, to show her some sign that I was willing to move to Florida with her, but I had nothing.

"It doesn't have to be for forever, Bells," my father said, but I knew it would be. I was already a senior, and there were no big universities in the Olympic Peninsula. Did he honestly think I would be returning to Forks after college? God, even thinking about the future hurt. Did I even want one anymore?

I knew a response was required, and I just wanted them to stop talking. Anything to get them to go away and leave me alone. "Yeah, Florida is okay," I finally managed to murmur, speaking for the first time in a week since Dr. Gerandy came to see me.

I know my parents thought that was a turning point, that I would be back to normal after that…but I wasn't.

The Little Zombie, that's what Phil took to calling me to my mother. I don't think he knew I heard him, but I did. Maybe the old Bella would have called him on it, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Nothing mattered anymore.

My first several months in Florida followed a predictable pattern. I woke, went to school, ate, slept, repeat. Nothing interrupted my little bubble of unhappiness, and it didn't occur to me to care that I had no friends and no activities outside of school. My grades were flawless and I was existing, but nothing more than that. In the beginning, my mother tried to give me several of those "I've been hurt by men before too" speeches, but she stopped after a while when she realized I wasn't listening.

When I didn't snap out of it after a while, my mom sent me to a shrink. He said I had a major depressive disorder, and prescribed selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors. I started on Prozac, but after that didn't work I went to Wellbutrin. I know that most people feel better after they go on antidepressants, but it wasn't like that for me. I didn't feel better, I just felt nothing.

Nothing. Not the aching hole in my chest, not anxiety, not depression, not desire, nothing. I just became even, and every high and low I ever had was gone.

That's when Phil started calling me the Medicated Zombie. I finished out my senior year, not really interested in college, but I somehow got in to Dartmouth, Cornell, and Brown. I don't even remember filling out applications, but I supposed I did. I figured later that I must have expressed a moderate interest in Rhode Island, for the next thing I knew my mom had sent in the student housing forms, paid for courtesy of my full scholarship, and I was registered to begin classes for my freshman year.

It didn't matter to me. Rhode Island, New Hampshire, New York, they were all the same. All blurred futures to me that simply didn't matter. I would exist without action at any of them, so which one I went to was rather arbitrary.

I guess my life would have continued on that way had my mom not stepped in. I don't think I ever really thanked her for that; I mean _really_ thanked her. She knew that I wasn't living, and she saved me. Became like my own personal sun, I guess. I clung to her warmth, not even noticing I was doing it.

She woke me up in June, about three months before I was going to leave for college. I had been sitting in my room, staring out the window, when she burst in with a large smile on her face.

"Hey, honey!" She called, her cheeks splitting in the widest smile I had ever seen. "You won't believe what I was able to find in this little store off of Beaver and Main! They have a bunch of college sweatshirts and stuff, and I bought this!" She pulled a brown t-shirt out of the bag. It had BROWN written across it in red, capital letters.

"Isn't this great?" she asked, her voice full of enthusiasm.

"Great, Mom," I echoed, looking back out the window. I loved the house we lived in, so close to the water that I could smell the ocean and the tang of the sea.

My mom came over and sat next to me on the window seat, brushing a lock of hair from my face. "What's the matter, hon? Aren't you happy about going to school in Rhode Island?"

To this day, I don't know what made me say it. Really, they were the words that saved my life, but I hadn't volunteered information in months. So why did I do it that day? Maybe I wanted to be saved. I don't know, but I said, "Happy? I don't remember what happy feels like."

And then I looked back out the window.

She was silent for a long time, not moving, but then she finally said, her voice soft, "Honey? What do you feel?"

I turned my head, looking back at her, and said, "I don't feel anything."

She tossed out my prescription drugs that day. It was really stupid, and she could have caused me to go through withdrawals or worse, but none of that happened to me. Part of me expected that empty chasm in my chest to reopen, for me to descend into that deep pool from which I could not escape, but it didn't.

I just started living again.

It was a slow process, and a lesser woman that my mother would have crumbled, but she brought me back to life. Slowly, she reintroduced me to things that I used to like. I ate Mexican food again, swam in the ocean, went for long walks where neither of us said anything. She bought me CDs, replacing the ones I had broken and thrown away. We watched Masterpiece Theater marathons, and I reintroduced myself to the classics that I had once loved, allowing reading to become a pleasure again.

It was hard, and sometimes painful, but that was how I learned to live without Edward.

There was no one day I was better, no moment that my life suddenly became rainbows and puppies, but I did start to feel again. Sadness, happiness, anger, grief, I felt it all. But it didn't pull me under; my mom wouldn't let it. We never talked about the Cullens initially, it was easier that way, but we did talk about Forks. My mom told me about her early days of dating and how important it was to not invest so much of yourself in one person that you lose that spark of who you are. I nodded and told her I understood, but how do you express to your mom that it wasn't just him who left me? I lost a whole family, a whole world really. I had figured out my life, the universe, and my place in it. To have that stripped away in a moment by the man I thought loved me with the same intensity I loved him…well, it was devastating.

But my mom, in one of her more amazing moments, said something to me that I have never forgotten. She said, "Is it so hard to believe that you are worth something without him? That whatever happened, brief though it was, doesn't have to end your life? You are still living, Bella, still breathing. His leaving did not end your life; it only ended that part of it. It's time for a new beginning, honey."

She never said his name, but then, she didn't have to. Her words resonated within me, without even mentioning him.

So I lived.

I went off to college with that mantra drumming in my head, and I really made an effort. I made friends, I joined clubs, and I _lived_. All of those human experiences that he had wanted me to have, I now experienced for myself. I did all the things kids my age were supposed to do. I lit up with my roommate (but only the once and never again), I got drunk at a party (the next morning regurgitation cured me of that impulse too), I attended a protest rally, I withdrew from a class solely due to the time it was being offered (it cut into my sleeping in)…the list went on and on.

The only thing I never did was date. I simply couldn't. That part of me was locked deep inside me and I did not have the tools to make it come out again.

But I was okay with that.

My life was so full that I didn't even notice what I was missing.

The years passed by quickly, and soon I was taking my last set of finals at Brown. I remember walking away from the Brown Street building, having dropped off the last of my essays, and wondering where all the time went.

In the end, Edward had come through on his promise. He never came back, and I went on with my life without him interfering.

And it was…like he had never existed.

On a spring day, later that month, I stepped across the stage and gracefully accepted my diploma. I became a college graduate, and my first action was to find the faces of my mom, Charlie, and Phil in the crowd and shoot a smile their way. They cheered, stamped their feet and whistled, and I waved at them as I began to go back to my seat. Out of the periphery of my vision, under the shade of a tree, I thought I saw a flash of bronze hair and pale skin, but I didn't look.

Because—for the first time in five years—I was no longer hoping to see Edward. That girl I was, the one who was so willing to give up her soul to his keeping, she didn't exist anymore. He had left her behind in a forest in Forks, and a very different woman had taken her place.

I don't think he would recognize me now, not really. Had Edward come up to me that day and spoken, if he really was there, I think he would have thought himself mistaken in knowing me.

He—that beautiful boy—was forever frozen in seventeen-year-old perfection, and I…was not.

I had grown, I had changed. My body now had new curves and bends; I even grew two inches. I now had an ugly, but wonderful, scar that ran from my hipbone to the top of my thigh where I injured myself in a boat racing accident my sophomore year. I had spent my summers as a lifeguard, and I had stood, in full sunlight, in front of the leaning tower of Pisa. I took up rock climbing my junior year, despite my mom's fear, and actually got certified, leaving my clumsy ways behind me.

I had cut off all my hair, died it blue, and grown it back again, restoring it to its original mahogany glory. I had learned fluent French, and took an art class in my senior year that focused on life drawings—nude. I learned to dance, and how to hit a line drive towards left field. I started celebrating my birthdays again, and I had even felt glad when I reached the milestone of twenty-one. I stopped correcting new people when they called me Isabella, answering to both that and Bella in equal measure. I now called my parents by their first names all the time, no longer fearing their sadness at it.

Simply put, I grew up.

Any relationship between me and Edward would have been impossible for us by that point, because I could no longer return to that original form. That sweet, simple, malleable girl was gone, and in her place was someone he would not have recognized.

I was changed, utterly.

Because, in the end, I had to wake myself up. See, I have a theory. Originally, I was Sleeping Beauty. When he left, I fell into an enchanted sleep, waiting for him to return. But life's not a fairytale, so I had to do it on my own. I couldn't wait a hundred years for him to return.

When I was with him, I always thought my options were to die or become a vampire. It never occurred to me that there was a third option.

I could have lived.

But here's the thing. From the moment I met Edward, I knew that wasn't an option anymore. Almost like, there was this hallway of open doors and all I needed to do was walk through one of them. Then Edward came along and all the doors closed on me, until there were only two left.

But once my mom brought me back to life, I realized that third option was open to me once again. And I took it.

I lived, I changed, and I grew.

And in doing this…I woke myself up.

I was the Prince Charming of my own fairytale, and I saved myself.

* * *

_CPOV_

When I was a little boy, my favorite tale was of St. George and the Dragon. There was a storyteller in the Borough Market—the one that operated on the end of the London Bridge—who used to sit in a stall for hours and spin tales that captured my imagination. I can't remember the first time I heard him speaking, nor his name, as they have both been lost to time with other human memories. Yet, I remember the sound of his voice with perfect clarity. He used everything he had to weave his stories, and his low bass voice was just one of his tools.

He told stories of saints and sinners, villains and heroes, each more captivating than the last…but St. George was my favorite.

Had my father had his way, I never would have heard anything but religious parables taken straight from the King James Bible, but he made an error when he sent me with Bessie to do the shopping on Saturdays. My father, convinced of her stupidity, did not trust her with our accounts with the merchants. He thought that they would take advantage of and charge her more than what the goods were worth. Of course, he did not even think about the fact that most of the merchants knew of and respected my father and would not dare to cheat him. I, despite knowing all this, was not about to tell my father of his mistake, because going with Bessie meant stories.

After the shopping was done, Bessie often liked to stop and chat with her sister who worked for the Priory at Southwark Cathedral. With her thus occupied, I went to listen to the storyteller. His stories could be bawdy and ribald, taken from the _1001__ Arabian __Nights_ or the _Canterbury __Tales_, or they could be sweet and poetic, derived from saint's tales and diaries. He never repeated any of his stories, except for St. George.

In my later years, I often wondered if he did this for my benefit. Surely he must have seen the pleasure on my face when his words retraced that familiar tale, and the happiness I emitted as I mouthed the words along with him. But he never spoke to me, nor I to him; he merely told tales in the market, and every so often I would stop and listen.

I don't know why I feared telling my father of my favorite tale. Yes, he would have been angry that my time was being spent frivolously, but perhaps not the subject matter. It is pointless to speculate, and quite possible that he would have thought the tale too Catholic, so I never told him. Instead, I used my endless imagination to imagine that I was St. George, charging the dragon with my lance in hand. Holding onto Ascalon, my holy sword, I slew the dragon for the townspeople so they might be converted to Christianity.

I always had a fascination with saving people, it seems.

The funny part is that I never really considered the rest of St. George's story. I conveniently ignored his eventual martyrdom for his faith, romanticizing George's escapades in my mind.

My father was a vicar for St. Olave's, a small offshoot of the main cathedral in the area. We lived in the adjacent vicarage, and I remember waking to the sound of church bells. As I grew, my focus and studies ran parallel to my father's, and I regretfully tucked St. George into the back corners of my mind.

But I never forgot.

After I was made into a vampire, part of the reason I was so resistant to the idea of giving in to my new inner demon was because it went contrary to all the things I wanted to be. I was supposed to be like St. George, saving the townsfolk from dragons.

Instead, I had become the monster.

It was this resentment, this abhorrence of the thing that I had become, that prevented me from finding a companion for a long time. My journey to France, my studies there and in Europe's universities, and my time spent with the Volturi did little to cure my need to reconcile myself with the monster I thought I was. I thought myself better left to the shadows, becoming apart of mere memory and myth.

When I did eventually make a companion, when I saved Edward, it unleashed in me those memories that I had long thought myself to be the master of.

Like St. George, I didn't just want to save a princess; I wanted to save the whole town. With this in mind, Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett followed. Had Jasper and Alice not joined us of their own accord, I don't know that I would have stopped. Perhaps I would have wanted to keep adding to my family, keep saving people from certain death. I don't know the answer to that, all I know is that for a long time, I was content.

We, my family, had settled into a delightful routine. Six years in one town, eight in another—sometimes less when needs must—while I practiced medicine in any local hospital that needed me. I honed my skills, attending medical school multiple times, trying to be the best doctor and surgeon that I could be. My monster, the one I had once feared so, was safely locked away behind my firm control. Everything seemed perfect.

And then she arrived.

When Edward met Bella Swan, I secretly rejoiced for the boy I considered my brother and son. I had wanted nothing more than for him to find someone, always secretly wondering if something had gone wrong during his transformation. But Bella eased all my worries. She seemed perfect for Edward. Her firm nature would balance his need to control. His confidence would counter her shyness. Or so I thought.

But I was too happy for my son and brother to see what was coming. It didn't occur to me to be concerned that the girl who would come into my office to discuss Keats and _One__ Hundred__ Years __of__ Solitude_ bore little resemblance to the diminutive girl who let Edward run roughshod her. I never thought about the fact that when Bella came over she and Edward seemed to spend all their time doing what he wanted to do. I didn't question the way that Bella often seemed to open her mouth to give an opinion, only to close it again when Edward broke in. Edward's agony at her blood and Bella's insistence on being changed, along with Edward's vehement refusal, were things I never even considered until later, after the worst had happened.

No, the inequality of their relationship did not worry me at first, though perhaps it should have. Perhaps it should have been a warning to me, a loud beacon meant to signal that trouble was coming. Maybe, had I seen what was going to happen, I could have prevented it. But really, it seems so unbelievable that a simple paper cut could have been the beginning of the end of my family. That our carefully constructed lives could be destroyed over something so small was unfathomable to me at the time…but it was what happened.

I can't blame Bella for what occurred, though it would be easier if I could. I can blame no one, not even Edward, for it would pain me to think ill of the boy I had always loved best. I simply cannot.

And yet, with one unilateral decision, he destroyed our family. He couldn't have known it at the time, but looking back it was leaving Forks that was the cause of our dissolution. Alice, Emmett, and I tried to persuade him, but to no avail. Edward was determined to remove us from Bella's life, and we had no choice but to comply. I should have refused to leave, I know that now, but when Esme voted against me, and with Edward, part of me wondered if I was wrong. It was for that reason alone that I left Forks with my family. Surely Esme with her good and kind nature would never cause Bella, or allow to be caused, pain.

So we left, and thus began the end of our lives together.

We didn't see it then of course. People, as a rule, rarely admit failure until it is staring them in the face—and vampires are no different.

I did try to make it all work, I truly believe that, but some things are just so unfixable that all the effort in the world comes to naught. It was simply too late by that point; too late for all of us.

Esme buried herself in remodeling our home at Ithaca, and I tried to tamp down the growing resentment I had towards her and the way she just put Forks out of her mind. Her patience for Edward seemed limitless, yet my own thoughts were less simple. I wanted to take away Edward's pain, to absorb his self-blame, but I seemed to have found my limit of patience where he was concerned. I could do no more.

I focused instead on my teaching at Cornell, and working nights at Cayuga Medical Center. I had long talks with Jasper, trying to help him with some of the guilt he felt for his part in our departure from Forks.

Still, there were signs…and I missed them all.

We had often separated before, why was this time so different? Yet, it was. Emmett and Rosalie barely came with us to Ithaca before leaving, and Alice was off on a mission to find her past. And Edward, no one really knew where he was. He only called every couple of months, and only spoke to Esme or Alice.

I don't know if we would have gone on that way indefinitely, but it matters not.

Everything came to a head when we all met up in Denali during Cornell's spring break. I'll never forget the conversation I had with Alice that night.

I had been standing outside, looking out into the vast land behind Tanya's home that longingly reminded me of the forests near Forks. My mind was on Esme and the growing distance between us. I was losing something, I knew that. Some part of us that had always made sense before just didn't fit any longer.

"Carlisle," Alice's voice echoed in the darkness. I turned to see her standing on the balcony with me, a horrified expression on her face.

"What is it, Alice?" I asked, my nonexistent heart stopping in my chest.

"We have to go back to Forks," Alice said, taking me aback.

"Alice, I know you want to see Bella…" I wanted to see her too. I felt almost a need to assure myself that she was all right.

"This isn't about that!" Alice snapped, her anxiety coloring her words. "Victoria has raised a newborn army. We have to go. We have to stop her." She came over to where I was standing and took my hand in her own. "I am telling you because it is the only way I see us all going. You have to make an executive decision, Carlisle. You have to order the family to Forks, otherwise it won't work." Her eyes were bright in the light of the moon. "Many people will die if we don't go, Carlisle."

I nodded, my worst fears confirmed. Alice turned to go back inside, but the next thing I said seemed to stop her in her tracks. "What is going to happen to us Alice?"

Without turning, she murmured, "We will all survive."

"As a family?" I didn't know why I couldn't let it go, but I needed her to say the words.

"Some things, some futures, they will occur no matter what precautions we take," Alice said finally.

I had my answer, yet it brought me no comfort.

So we went.

The Denali Coven, after hearing what Irina guiltily confessed about Laurent, came with us, and that made all the difference. Edward joined us, full of wrath about our disobeying his orders—as if we were errant children—but eventually helped us win. Victoria and her coven were no more, but my family's unity was the price.

After an intense argument, we all scattered, like ships to the four corners of the earth. And Esme—sweet and loving Esme—she went with Edward, and took with her all my hopes.

I returned to Ithaca. I know it was stupid, but some part of me thought that if I just stayed there, and kept everything as she left it, she would eventually come home. Alice and Jasper tried to stay with me for a while, but I think my cloud of depression was simply too much for Jasper. They left within a couple of months, the regret and sorrow obvious in their marble faces. Alice, moments before driving away, took me in her arms and whispered, "It'll be all right. Everything will be all right. I've seen it. Have faith, Carlisle."

I didn't know how to tell her I felt as though I had no faith left.

For weeks I stayed in that house. I quit my job at the hospital and at the college, preferring to remain within the walls of my home. I wandered from room to room, imagining the dwelling filled with my family, but it was a poor substitute for the real thing. My days and nights were endless, and I found myself wishing I could experience the sweet oblivion of sleep. After five endless weeks, I walked into my office with a box in hand, and began to pack. I took all my books, journals, paintings, etchings, and things of sentimental value. I packed all my medical equipment and the various experiments I had been performing. I collected my clothes, my father's cross, and my family bible. Once that was done, I marched down to the car and placed it all inside.

I never returned to that house again.

After a long drive, I settled in Walworth, Michigan, but I didn't stay there long. Within another nine months I was on the road again; this time I ended up in Astoria, Oregon. Like Walworth, I avoided making friends or acquaintances. I refused to unpack my things; they simply remained in boxes in the unused second bedroom of my apartment. I found a small hospital and worked endless, grueling shifts. My superiors liked me because they thought me just finished with my residency and eager for experience. They didn't even think to question how I would work thirty-six hours without flinching or showing exhaustion.

It was there, after two years, that Esme found me. I remember that day with perfect clarity, though I would give anything to forget. Work was normal that day, average even, and I didn't know my life was about to change. Ignorance was bliss and I had no idea. When I came in the door of my apartment, I smelled her instantly, but I thought it a product of my longing and fevered imagination. But no, the smell really was there. Apples and honey, and summer after a rainstorm. It was Esme.

I saw a flash of caramel colored hair, and turned to greet my wife. "Esme," I murmured, taking in the sight before me. She hadn't altered at all; she even seemed more relaxed, if that was possible. Her eyes were shining with emotion, and I foolishly hoped that it was because she was glad to see me. I was about to move forward to embrace her…when I saw the manila envelope in her hand. My vampire sight could easily read the name of the lawyer's office embossed on the front.

I sighed. "So, that's it then?"

Esme's eyes were so apologetic, I almost had a hard time looking at her. "Do you think it would be better to drag it out?" she asked, her voice regretful.

"No, I suppose not," I offered. "Swifter is better."

"I didn't want this to happen," she murmured, placing the papers on the coffee table. For a moment, I was struck by the sheer absurdity of divorce papers. All it took to delete our marriage was a few clicks of a mouse; after all we did not truly exist. But I think, in the end, we are slaves to the way we live. Live like humans, separate like them too.

With a soft sight, she said, "I thought with a little time away…"

"Yes," I replied. "As did I. But we can't go back to what we were, can we?"

"No," she whispered.

I looked over at her, wishing to drink in the sight of her one last time. She hadn't altered since the day we married, and yet I found myself almost sad in that knowledge. In the end, did she resent me for having saved her from the death of her choice? Had she, all these years, been wishing to be reunited with her son? Her eyes were the same golden pools they always were, yet they were closed off to me now. I didn't know her inner most secrets anymore, and she did not know mine. Two years was nothing to vampires, but we weren't just any vampires. We were vampires who lived like humans, and to them two years was a long time. So, I took in the arch of her neck, the curve of her waist. I let my eyes trace every feature in her face, and I followed down the smooth line of her arms. And it was there, on the fourth finger of her left hand, that I had my answer.

Her finger was empty, and I was too.

Stepping up to the table, I took the papers out and signed in four places with a flourish. Wordlessly, I handed her back the papers and gently kissed the side of her face. "Be well," I whispered to her.

She nodded, her eyes pooling with venom. Esme walked to the door, turning back only to say, "He misses you. He doesn't say it, but he does. I know he thinks of you often. He wants you to forgive him, but I think it's his own forgiveness that he needs."

I nodded, but I could say nothing. It was all too fresh, and that endless well of compassion and empathy, that I could always summon forth when needed, was curiously dry.

And just like that—she was gone.

Our divorce was completely straightforward. She took the houses in Ithaca, Connecticut, Wisconsin, British Columbia, and Vancouver. I took the houses in Rochester, Denali, Vermont, Montreal, and Forks. I also took back Isle Esme, which hurt more than I thought it would. We agreed that the children should be allowed to use any of them whenever they wanted, and the numerous cars could be divided among them. I passed on all the information to Jasper, and though C.E.E. Inc.—our personal company— he distributed the funds and properties accordingly. I didn't really care; I had no intention of returning to any of the houses—except one.

Six months after our divorce was official, I returned to Forks.

Driving through that little town, it was like nothing had changed. I thought it would be a difficult trip, but instead I was filled with a gentle nostalgia. I had loved my time there; the hospital, the woods, the people, there was something special about that corner of Washington.

I wasn't going to stop. I had only planned to go up to the house, spend a day in the forest, and leave…but something inside me made me pull over at the police station. Once I had parked my car, I quickly went inside the building. The deputy who was manning the front desk dropped his jaw when he saw me, but before he could form any words, Charlie walked out of his office.

Chief Swan blanched when his eyes met mine, but the guarded look on his face quickly faded when he saw the smile on my own.

"Dr. Cullen," he said, lapsing back into formalities before striding forward and shaking my hand. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I was just passing through," I replied. "I am thinking about putting the old Victorian on the market."

"You alone?" Charlie asked, looking fairly belligerent at the idea of someone else being with me.

"Yes, I am alone," I replied. "And I won't be here long, a couple of hours at the most."

"Oh," Charlie said, shifting awkwardly. "How's your family? And your wife?"

I was tempted to lie, but there was really no point. "I'm not married anymore," I said. "Divorced about six months ago." The deputy was hanging onto our every word, and I knew the whole town would know soon, not that it mattered.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said, his voice sounding genuinely contrite. I guess he would be one to understand losing the love of your life. He cleared his throat, "Are any of your kids still with you?"

I laughed. "No, definitely not. Rosalie and Emmett are in living in Alaska and attending college there. Alice and Jasper are currently in Sri Lanka, and Edward is with Esme in South America."

Charlie's jaw clenched at the mention of Edward, but he didn't comment.

"How's Bella?" I asked quietly, anxious for his answer.

His face split into a genuine grin. Pride looked like it was about to spill out of him. "She's great, really great. Currently about to start her last semester at Brown, on the Dean's List, you know."

I breathed a sigh of relief. At least that was one thing we hadn't been able to ruin. "That's wonderful, Charlie. Congratulations. You must be very proud of her."

"I am," Charlie said, smiling. "She's a good kid, though I hardly recognize her anymore."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my nerves returning.

"She's just so grown up," Charlie stated. "She spent the summer traveling around Europe, and all her postcards are about these amazing places she was seeing. She has learned fluent French, and went a whole semester never speaking anything else. What else?" He murmured to himself. "Oh! She wanted to take a road trip at Christmas from Providence to Forks. I told her she was crazy, but she just laughed and said, 'Maybe next year.'"

I smiled and listened to Charlie, my mind relieved. Part of me had wondered how accurate Alice's visions had been, and I was happy to find that Bella was, in fact, fine. After speaking to Charlie for another few minutes about Forks and the changes the last couple of years had wrought, I got back into my car and didn't stop driving until I reached Astoria.

The next day, I began to put out feelers for a new job—something that could be a bit more permanent. There was no need to rush, I could finish out another few months there in Astoria, but I felt the need to settle now. Everyone had moved on it seemed, but me. Perhaps it was time for me to actually put down roots somewhere. I could start young, just out of medical school, and stay for maybe eight to ten years.

I could find a little community, do some good, but stay apart. I was done getting involved and caring too much. I just wanted to find a little hamlet with a hospital that I could get lost in.

That little boy, the one who so loved St. George and the Dragon—well, he died a long time ago in a sewer in London.

It was time for me to stop hanging onto him.

I wasn't the hero or the saint.

I could choose to do good, and to live a moral life. But I would never forget what I was.

I was the monster; I was the Dragon.

* * *

_To Be Continued... _


	2. Part I: Of Journeys End & Lovers Meeting

_Trip no further, pretty sweeting, Journey's end in lovers' meeting-  
Every wise man's son doth know._

_What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter;  
What's to come is still unsure_

—_Twelfth __Night,__ William __Shakespeare_

* * *

_Chapter Two – Of Journeys End and Lovers Meeting_

_BPOV_

Time passes differently as a grown up. When you can no longer measure your days by exams and school breaks, the months often fly by with very little notice. Or so I'm told. After graduation, I made the rather impetuous decision to move to a small town in Maine that reminded me a lot of Forks. It was called Calais, and it was right on the border of New Brunswick. The town had less than 4,000 people.

My dad laughed uproariously when I told him that.

I always thought myself to be a city girl, but I guess there was some part of me that yearned for the solitary life again. The hustle and bustle of Providence had been a nice setting for my college adventures, but when I thought about what I wanted my life to be, my thoughts immediately turned to green forests and endless fields, to small towns and simple people. In a city, it is easy for me to get lost. Not in the sense of direction, but in the sheer magnitude of all the people busy living their lives. If I learned anything from that one disastrous year in Forks, it is that I need people who won't mind me keeping to myself, who provide a framework to my life, but don't intrude upon it. At least for a little while.

Having achieved my teaching credential while getting my B.A., I was hired to teach first grade at Calais Elementary School. I bought a house, with almost no money down, on the banks of the St. Croix River. My mother despaired of me setting down roots so far away, but I was happy to have my own space. I quickly grew to love my students, and I made tentative friends with the townspeople.

They didn't know what to make of me, really. Most kids my age left the town when they were old enough, moving away for better jobs and better lives, but I liked the quiet. Had it not been for that year in Forks, I don't think I would have learned to like small towns so much, but I was content with them for now. I had decided to live here for a few years, build my teaching experience, and then move down to a city, maybe near my mom. (I told myself that this was the plan, not wanting to admit how much I loved living in Calais.) But before I did that, I wanted to try it on my own.

And I did it. For three whole months, I lived quietly and happily with my life…until the day that everything changed.

That morning, I had stopped by _Dottie__'__s_—the local coffee shop—for my breakfast which I always got to go. The door to the small diner opened with a jingle, the bell above the door ringing merrily.

"Hey, honey," Linda said, leaning over the counter. Linda was the owner. She had worked as a waitress for nearly twenty years, saving all her tips until the day Dottie died, and then she bought the diner from her son who lived in Ellsworth. She told me that she had started waiting tables when she was fourteen, and I could hardly believe it. She had the look about her of someone who had lived eighty years instead of thirty-four. She called everyone 'honey' regardless of their age or gender. I felt easy with her. As a result, she was one of the first people I spoke more than a couple of sentences with in my new town.

She smiled at me now, showing a slight gap between her two front teeth. "Your food's almost ready; we're running a bit behind this morning."

I smiled at her, waving her off. "No worries. Though I must admit, I am surprised. I thought only an act of God could prevent you from being on top of things."

Linda laughed, her voice raspy due to years of smoking. "Honey, you don't know the half of it. An act of God we've had."

"Yep," Martha, another waitress, piped in as she walked by, coffee pot in hand. Martha was about twenty-five with brassy red hair and always had gum in her mouth, which she smacked away on. She reminded me of one of those clichés about waitresses that could be seen on TV. She grinned as she continued, "Either that or it is an early Christmas present. I have been a _very_ good girl this year."

Linda snorted. "Sure, honey, keep telling yourself that."

"Okay," I said, smiling. "I'll bite. What's this act of God?"

"There's a new doctor in town," Linda said, her voice low and conspiratorial. I had heard that we were getting one, it had been all over Calais for the last month or so, but Linda liked to gossip as if it was the first time anyone had heard certain news.

"Yep!" Martha piped in. "And he is bee-ay-u-tee-ful!"

"And so polite!" a female dinner put in.

"Blond hair, gold eyes, sex on a stick, honey," Linda said. The bell behind her dinged, and she turned to get my food which had been wrapped and placed on the counter.

For a moment, I felt panic fill me. No, no, no! This simply couldn't be happening, not now. I started composing three different letters of resignation in my head until I forced myself to calm down. This was silly. There were thousands of doctors in the country, and I am sure more than one is young, blond, and the bearer of light brown eyes. But I had to be sure, so I said, "And this doctor…he's married with kids?"

"Honey, do you think we would be this excited about a married doctor?" Linda asked, her hands settling on her hips with a sly smile on her face. "No, he is single, unattached, and just out of medical school."

I breathed a deep sigh of relief, and was now able to enjoy their little banter. "Well, you better put your name in, before he gets snapped up by one of the other single ladies," I said, laughing a bit.

"Don't I know it," Linda muttered.

"I've already tossed my hat in," Martha called.

"What about Rex?" I called back, grinning.

She laughed at the mention of her fiancé who was a patrolman for the Calais Police Department. "He'll understand," she said with a grin and a shrug.

I shook my head, chuckling. "Well, happy hunting, ladies." Taking my food, I left the diner as they called goodbye to me.

It was a brisk ten minute walk from the diner to the elementary school, and I liked to savor it. I knew that I would have to start to drive again when the snows came in two months or so, but for now I could enjoy the peace of a lovely autumn day. It had become my tradition to stop by the diner in the morning merely by chance. One morning I had been running late and found myself completely out of cereal, and I had swung by the diner for a quick bite. After talking with Linda briefly, I made an arrangement with her to make my breakfast and lunch and bag it for me, and I paid my tab at the end of the week. Linda liked having the regular business, not that she was hurting for it, and I liked having the small amount of adult interaction to start my morning.

When I turned the corner, I walked past the Calais hospital—a tiny place—and noticed a brand new Audi R8 with dark tinted windows sitting in the lot. I hadn't seen a car like that since… I shook my head and told myself I was overreacting.

Once the elementary school was in view, I sped up my pace. I loved the little brick building that I worked in, my classroom especially. I had filled it with pictures and examples of the student's art, and I hoped it was a happy place to learn. When I was younger, I hadn't liked kids much. They made me nervous for some strange reason, but after a summer as a lifeguard, I had learned how much I liked their little minds and the ways that they could bounce back from anything. Children were so resilient, and it had helped me a lot to be around them.

When the bell rang, the children filed in and we began with the Pledge of Allegiance. After a morning of simple addition and subtraction, the class started on the art lesson. I was reasonably happy, so I should have suspected my life was about to change, but I didn't. I thought of nothing but the multi-colored leaves that my students were making from construction paper. I didn't see it coming, but if I had I still don't know how I could have prevented it. First graders were only allowed the dull scissors, but somehow Matt Merkowski was able to slice open his hand. Within moments, blood was everywhere.

Ignoring all my instincts to faint or vomit, I grabbed a handful of paper towels and pressed them down over his wound. I took deep breaths as I willed myself to remain conscious. I sent one of the students to the office, and the principal returned within moments. He took over my class, and I hustled Matt down to the nurse/receptionist. She took one look at the cut and declared that Matt needed stitches. I fought the urge to ask her where she got her medical degree from.

I know my cheeks must have been flushed, and my face green, but I held down on Matt's hand like there was no tomorrow. I simply refused to be weak, no matter how much all my natural instincts were begging me to get away from the blood. Calmly, with Matt's emergency card in hand, I walked him the two blocks to the hospital.

We were settled in an exam room almost immediately, rarely did people actually require the hospital in Calais, and I quickly worked to distract him with a rousing game of I Spy.

With an exaggerated face, I said, "I spy something…green!"

Matt momentarily forgot about his hand and quickly got into the game. "Is it the clock?"

"Nope!" I exclaimed merrily. "Guess again!"

"Is it the chair?" he asked, pointing to the spindly, plastic green chair in the corner.

I clasped my hand over my mouth in mock surprise. "How did you know?"

"I'm really good at this game, Miss Swan," Matt said, giggling.

"You are," I replied. "Okay, your turn."

"I spy something…blue!" Matt chirped, just as the door opened.

"Is it the floor?" I asked, not realizing the doctor had arrived.

"Nope," Matt said, shaking his head and making his brown curls dance.

"Is it the wall paper?"

"Nooooo," Matt said, drawing out the word. "You aren't as good at this game as I am, Miss Swan!"

I laughed, "I guess you're right, Matt."

I heard a slight noise from the doorway. I turned with a smile on my face to greet the nurse or doctor…and my world fell apart.

Standing there, in the frame of the door and in all his outrageous perfection, was Carlisle Cullen.

"Bella?" he whispered, his voice full of shock. He didn't move for a moment, as if any sudden movement would make me disappear. Carlisle's face showed as much surprise to see me as I felt to see did him.

He hadn't changed at all. I don't know why that surprised me, but it did. Maybe in some corner of my mind I had thought that he would change and grow, despite the vampirism. But he was unaltered. He had retained every bit of his masculine beauty, the golden hair and eyes still mesmerizing. His pale skin still dazzled with extraordinary luminance, dark smudges still rimmed his eyes. In fact, the only thing that seemed to have changed with him was the expression he wore. Gone was the sparkle of happiness in his eyes, having been replaced with intense loss.

"Carlisle," I murmured.

That seemed to snap him from his shocked stupor, for a smile suddenly crossed his face which he directed at Matt. "Hello," he said, in that melodic voice of his. "I'm Dr. Cullen." He crossed the room in quick strides, putting aside Matt's chart and taking his little cut hand in his bigger one. "And what have we here?"

"I cut my hand when we were cutting leaves for the classroom!" Matt declared, sounding rather proud of his little war wound. I smiled in spite of the situation.

"Well, we will have you back to cutting leaves in no time," Carlisle said. He moved quickly and efficiently, taking items from the tray the nurse had set up. He cleaned Matt's wound, all the while engaging him in conversation. "So, Matt, how old are you?"

"I'm six," Matt said, "but I'll be seven in January. Miss Swan lets us have a party when it's our birthday and I'm gonna have my mom bring in cupcakes."

"What flavor is your favorite?" Carlisle asked, all the while stitching up Matt's little hand. Matt didn't even seem to notice, he was too busy going into raptures about cake.

"There," Carlisle said after a minute. "All done." He rubbed some ointment on the wound and tapped gauze over it.

"Thanks, Dr. Cullen! This is so cool; I can't wait to show Davey and James."

Carlisle and I laughed, though I didn't look at him or meet his eyes which I could feel upon me.

Within a moment, the door opened and Matt's mom came into the room in a harried manner. Carlisle spoke to her quickly, assuring her that it was no big deal. I then spoke to her and she decided to take Matt home for the day.

While Carlisle was writing in the chart, I slipped out of the exam room, my thoughts in a whirl. I knew I should stay and talk to him, but I didn't have any idea what to say. I had so many questions. What was he doing here? Where was the rest of the family? How long was he going to stay?

I could hardly believe that my instincts to panic that morning had been correct. It really was Carlisle Cullen. But really, it made no sense. Linda had specifically said he was single and without a family. What had happened to the Cullens? They must be coming soon, I thought. There was simply no way that Carlisle would come here without them. Maybe it was part of the cover story? Were they going to come here separately and pretend to meet?

I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost didn't hear the voice calling after me.

"Bella! Bella, wait!"

I turned and, not surprisingly, saw Carlisle standing there, his lab coat flapping in the wind as he stood just beyond the swishing doors to the hospital, carefully hidden from the sun under the safety of the awning.

"Bella…" His words trailed off, as if his thoughts failed him.

Tentatively, I raised my eyes to his as I wrapped my arms around my waist. I am sure that shock permeated my tone as I barely managed to whisper, "What are you doing here?"

"I just moved here," Carlisle murmured. "I didn't know…I didn't know you were here, Bella. If I had, I never would have—"

Anger lit me at that and I cut him off. "You never would have what? Moved here? God, am I so bad that you and your family have to run from my presence?"

"No!" Carlisle exclaimed. "I meant…I wouldn't have interrupted your life." He dragged his fingers through his hair in a very human gesture. "The last thing you must want is to be reminded of what happened, and now here I am wrecking everything."

I softened a bit at his explanation, and I colored my tone to match. "Carlisle," I said gently, "I could never object to seeing you. It was a shock, yes, but not an unwelcome one."

I had always been close to Carlisle. I suppose, after Alice, he had been the Cullen I knew best. He had always been so easy with affection, putting an arm around me or opening a door. His library had been at my disposal, and he had always been open to talking when I poked my head into his sanctuary. I had appreciated the way he had never shied away from me, more than any of the others he had embraced my choice to spend time with his family.

He smiled, his eyes hesitantly hopeful. "Really?"

I nodded. "I am not really excited to see some of the other Cullens," _Edward_, I silently thought, "but there is nothing that could keep me happy from seeing you."

Carlisle laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "Well, you don't have to worry about seeing the rest of the Cullens. They aren't here."

"Not here, but…" Suddenly, Linda's words took on a more sinister meaning. She said the new doctor was single with no family. I didn't understand. Where were Emmett, Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper? Where was Edward? Where was _Esme_? I tilted my head to the side and whispered, "Carlisle, what's going on? Where is everyone? Why are you alone?"

He sighed. "It's a long story."

"Oh," I murmured. "I have to get back to the school. I'm a teacher for the first grade class."

He must have gathered as much from Matt's ramblings, but he smiled anyway and said, "That's wonderful, Bella."

"Thanks," I replied shyly.

"Can we meet later?" he asked, his voice tentative, but hopeful.

"Sure," I responded. "I live—"

"I'll find you," Carlisle said with a laugh.

I blushed then. I had forgotten more than a little it seemed. "Of course, sorry."

Carlisle looked at his watch. "I get off at three. Can I see you at four?"

I nodded. Four o'clock was dusk, the sun setting earlier in the tiny state of Maine. How ironic that my reintroduction to the world of the supernatural would be at sundown.

Twilight, the safest time for them.

I smiled at Carlisle a bit and then turned, resuming my walk back to the school. I felt so unhinged, so beyond my feelings of control. My past was returning, catching up to my present far too quickly and I was helpless to stop it.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and I could keep only one thought in my mind.

Tonight, I had a meeting with a vampire.

* * *

_CPOV_

When the impetus for change finally struck me, it seemed that everything fell into place quite easily. I decided to work through the end of the summer, into September in Astoria. Though I felt some guilt at leaving them in the lurch, that cushion of time would provided me plenty of time to find a new situation. I was tempted to go back to medical school, but I had attended twenty years before and I had little desire to be around people. The blurring monotony of attending medical school yet again would do little to satisfy the gnawing desire I had for change.

In the past, moving to a new town had never been a group decision. Alice had always been scanning the future, and she would inevitably dance into the living room one day and tell us where our next home was to be. It is surprising how much I had come to depend on that. There is some amount of comfort in living with a psychic. You always know that things will work out. That the future, which can seem so ephemeral, will come and dawn anew.

Yet now, without her, I had to make my beginnings by myself again. My course was once more my own, and I had not the needs of a family to think on. The circumstances were much like what they were once, when I was young and just beginning. Then too, I had nothing to rely on but my senses and the vague hope that tomorrow would be a better day than the one before.

The feeling of hope was something I heavily relied on then, no matter how much I was faced with disappointment. Much of my early search and first several centuries were spent becoming disenchanted with the world and my place in it. Yet I kept searching, kept believing in that varied promise that something extraordinary was waiting for me. And even though I could no longer call them mine, I still loved every member of my family deeply. It was for them that I would keeping moving forward, keep striving to be better than I now was.

If I am honest with myself, I carried also the deep wish that we might all once again find ourselves together. I couldn't believe that Esme and I would find our way back, but the rest of my family might once again unite. We had scattered before, gone our own ways and faced the perils of the world alone. I forced myself to believe that this would be no different. That, one day, my coven would return to being a family. If not by blood, then by our common love.

My first order of business was to contact that small and strange man that Jasper always frequented for our papers. J. Jenks was only too happy to help. With what I can only imagine was tedious precision, he deleted Carlisle Cullen's existence from Forks and Alaska. It was tempting to take a new name, but I simply could not fathom it. My name was something I had carried since I was born, as a human and a vampire, and I had never been able to separate myself from that part of my father. Despite his disappointment and unfeeling parentage, I was still a Cullen and that would not change.

With a few clicks of his mouse, I was remade as Carlisle Cullen: twenty-seven-year-old UCLA Medical School graduate, single with no family. It pained me to erase my family like that, but it was easier this way. By starting so young, I could stay longer in one place. Also being a recent graduate was extremely conducive to getting a position in a small, out of the way hospital. They were often so grateful for doctors to come to their towns that they were willing to overlook oddities.

For most of the spring and the summer, I dithered between the Northeast and Montreal. I had no real desire to move back to Canada, but I did have a home there I hadn't been to in forty years and I could stay in it until I found a position in a hospital. It was possible, though, that one of the residents of the area might remember me. The northeast, on the other hand, had always been a place I loved. It was no coincidence that we had lived in New York and New Hampshire several times over the past century. I thought perhaps this time I should try somewhere farther north, maybe Maine.

I know not how long I would have gone back and forth in that manner until I received a phone call from Alice. I had been in surgery at the time so she left a message on my voicemail.

"For goodness sake, Carlisle," Alice snapped, speaking quickly into the phone in such a way that was audible in the message. "Just make up your freaking mind! You are giving me a headache. For the record, if you go to Montreal, you will be bored out of your mind within a couple of months and constantly fleeing the city to hunt. If you go to Maine, there is a little town called Calais which I think you might enjoy. Lots of animal life, and it is right on the St. Croix River. I can't see into your future beyond your arrival, but I think we both know which one you will pick."

Calais, Maine it is.

All right, perhaps I was not as independent as I thought I was. Still, I was grateful for the call.

By the end of August, I was moving into an ancient red bricked Victorian in the forest outside of Calais. I had come to the small town in July for an interview, which turned out to be less of an interview and more of the hospital board begging me to come. It seemed we both wanted the same thing, so I was happy to sign a two year contract with the hospital. I then returned to Astoria, closing up my apartment and finishing up all last minute details, one of which was to buy a new Audi to drive to Maine. I also wrote a long letter to Eleazar in Denali, telling him of the divorce and the move. Then, I was on the road. After a prolonged car trip, I found myself standing in front of my new home.

The old brick house was certainly nothing like what I had become accustomed to for the last several decades. It wasn't new or modern, but I immediately loved it for the character it had. Unlike the refurbished houses in Denali, Forks, and Ithaca, this one had had nearly no work done to it since its original building. It lacked indoor plumbing, heating, and electricity. I spent the month of August bringing my new home into the twenty-first century. I laid pipe, wired it for electricity, installed solar panels, and added vents as well as a thermostat. I also installed cable and wifi, connecting to the city lines and setting up a new account with one phone call. I decided against a phone in the house, keeping only my cell phone. It was simply too much of an effort to get a phone line all the way out to my house. I had never thought myself to be particularly handy, but endless time and no necessity for sleep tends to make one extremely productive.

In a way, I enjoyed building the house into a proper home for myself. No one had left their mark on it in over ninety years, so it felt more mine than any house had in a long time. Without Esme to decorate, I was able to outfit it according to my needs. I kept the wood floors, covering them only with oriental rugs. The walls were all painted rich colors, meant to accent the art that hung on them. I didn't realize until I was done how much of the house reflected my upbringing. Nearly every room of the house had a painting either by an English artist or of an English setting. Also incorporated was heavy mahogany, cherry, and oak furniture, which brought to mind the vicarage of my youth. Heavy curtains framed the windows, and endless bookshelves filled the walls of my study. Much of the furniture was bought at antique stores and at auction, making the home and its contents uniquely mine, new and old.

The only time I faltered in adjusting to my new home was when I came across my father's cross that I had lovingly kept for several hundred years. My feelings were muted as I hung it on the wall. My faith, which had once been so stalwart, seemed beyond me now. I still had my beliefs and I did not doubt that He existed, but it felt so far removed from me now. My infinite trust in Him had not wavered, but I couldn't bring myself to pray or count my blessings. I knew I would find my way back to Him eventually, but the why and the how were unknown to me at the present moment.

After nearly a month and a half of work and labor, I finally ventured into the town. I had limited my hunting to the surrounding area, though I did find several trails and paths that I knew I would return to again and again. The local scenery was a riot of color and grandeur, and I couldn't wait to explore it all.

The town was incredibly quaint, with a small main street and the hospital and schools within blocks of each other. I knew that this was just what I needed; a place where I could blend in and live without complication. I made infrequent trips to the town, stopping in at the hardware store and the grocer, to purchase food I would never eat. I tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, wanting to be nothing more than a blip on the radar of a small town.

On my first day of work, I parked at the lot in front of the hospital and then walked over to the local diner. I had found early on in my vampire days that it was a good thing to establish a routine. Humans, by nature, were creatures of habit. They noticed people who weren't very quickly, and it was the quickest way to stand out. As such, I decided that my new routine involved a stop for coffee in the morning.

The diner was open, which didn't surprise me. There was a high volume of logging in the area, not to mention the hunters and fisherman who frequented the area. I was certain that this was an early to rise, early to bed type of town.

The bell rang as I entered the diner, and I quickly felt the weight of nearly fifteen pairs of eyes on me, customers and wait staff alike. Crossing to the counter, I gave what I hoped was a friendly smile to the woman behind the counter. Linda, her nametag read.

"How can I help ya, honey?" She asked, smiling at me happily.

"Cup of coffee to go, please," I replied. Wanting to establish a friendly rapport, I said, "I'm Carlisle Cullen, by the way. I start working over at the hospital today."

"Oh, so you're the new doctor," she said with eager eyes.

"Yes," I replied. "Just moved here."

"With your family?" Linda asked. I noticed then that the other waitress seemed to be taking an awfully long time to refill the sugar, and I realized it was gossip they were after.

"Ah, no," I said. "No family here, just me. After living in California for medical school, I thought it would be nice to move somewhere quieter. Plus, I have a great affinity for the outdoors, and there are some great hiking trails around here." I had always found it important to establish this cover early on, that way if I ever took a day off because of too much sun, I had a ready excuse.

"Well, we're happy to have you, honey," Linda said.

"Thanks," I said, stirring creamer and sugar into it, not that I would ever drink it. I put two dollars down on the counter and smiled. "It was nice to meet you. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Count on it, honey," she said, giving me what I think she supposed to be a flirtatious wink.

Inwardly, I sighed as I left the diner. I had forgotten the complication that being single would provide. Until the women here realized I wasn't going to bite on any of their offers, I would be pestered. Before, I had Esme and the protection of marriage, but now I was once again 'available'. It would be even worse when people saw my car and realized I bought the old Victorian in the woods. Vultures, the lot of them.

Tossing the untouched coffee into the trash in front of the hospital, I walked inside and towards the reception desk. After a meeting with the hospital director, I met the two other doctors working and the nurses on call. Then, I changed into my lab coat and began my new job.

There is a familiarity that comes with hospitals I have found, no matter where they are. Sure, certain things change like policies and rules, but the overarching feelings of hospitals are surprisingly uniform. There is a hush in the procedure rooms and an intensity in the ER. The nurses chat happily at their station, but become all business when on a case. It is this routine which I love, which I always savor no matter where I am.

I spent my morning treating a case of Strep Throat and suturing a laceration incurred during a fender-bender. The hospital was a combination of a clinic and trauma center, so I was guaranteed many such innocuous cases. I quickly wrapped myself in work, forgetting the hours as they ticked by. I let my vampiric senses retreat to the background unless I needed to call them forward for a case. I became immersed in my work, and it was probably for this reason that I did not sense as the ground shifted from beneath me until it was too late.

Even now, I look back and I wonder how I missed all the signs. How did I not hear that memorable heartbeat which I was so familiar with, the one that used to fill the halls of my home with the steady comfort only it could provide? How did I miss that smell, the one that used to linger in my study for hours after she left it? The one of roses, freesia, and spring that I had developed such a liking for.

I know not, but the simple fact is that I _did_ miss them until I opened that exam room door. My first glimpse of her was like seeing a familiar painting, one fondly remembered from a trip to a museum years before. The images blur over time, but that same familiar feeling overcomes you when you see the art again. It was like that for me, seeing Bella once more.

She was different from the girl she was before. Her appearance had altered significantly, but I knew from her scent and that steady beat of her heart that it was she. Time had been good to her, I realized. I don't know if I had expected her to be different if ever I saw her again, but she surprised me so much that I must have. Gone were the rounded cheeks of adolescence and the nails too short from biting. Gone too was the innocence that used to suffuse every look of her eyes. She was not jaded, but simply experienced, worldly. Her high cheekbones and delicate features remained, along with that mane of chocolate brown hair, but they now were more pronounced, developed, and matured.

She was beautiful.

It is so hard to remember sometimes that people change and grow once we leave them behind. So much of life as a vampire has involved clean breaks and never again returning to the same place, one often forgets that others are not static as we are. On another, I might mourn the passage of time, but not for Bella. She was always a too mature woman trapped in a teenager's body. Her mind was bored by the conversation and woes of her peers. She was now the adult in body that she had always been in mind.

Still, I was surprised to see her and my mouth had formed her name before I could call it back. "Bella?" I asked, seeking confirmation for that which I already knew.

"Carlisle," she responded, her voice full of shock and surprise.

I wanted to keep looking at her, to take in all the changes in her, but now was not the time. Turning to my patient, I said, "Hello, I'm Dr. Cullen. And what have we here?"

"I cut my hand when we were cutting leaves for the classroom!" The little boy said happily, shooting an adoring look towards Bella. Was she his teacher?

I began making small talk with the boy, trying to move as quickly as possible so that he wouldn't become upset by the stitches I had to use to close his deep cut. Several times I tried to catch Bella's eye, but she was either looking at Matt or at the floor. Soon I was done and talking to the mother who came into the room, terribly upset. I must have said something soothing to her for she calmed down almost immediately. Turning, I cleaned up the area, listening to Bella's dulcet tones assure the mother that Matt would be fine if he missed the rest of the day. In my mind, I tried to think of all the things I had to say to her, all the words that had been unspoken for far too long. I owed her such an apology, but I didn't even know where to begin. But when I turned around to speak to her, she was gone.

I thought for a moment about letting her go, of finding her later, but I simply could not. Seeing her now, after all this time, was like being thrust head first back into my past. I found myself yearning to soothe her, much in the way I always had in Forks. I simply needed to be sure that she was all right, even if it was only for my own sake. I walked quickly out to reception, telling the nurse I would be right back, and running out to the automatic doors which I could see her just beyond.

"Bella! Bella, wait!" I called, smiling with inward relief when she turned around. She looked hesitant, as if she wanted to run away as quickly as she could. Words failed me, and all I could think to say was, "Bella…"

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her words tentative. I noticed that she seemed taller that she had been in Forks, and she wasn't wearing heels. Most women stopped growing at eighteen, but it seemed Bella evaded that rule. One more thing to add to the mess of contradictions that made up Bella Swan.

When she met my eyes, I was filled with deep relief. We spoke at length, and I found myself sliding easily back into that easy way we had back when we used to debate literature in my study.

Unbidden, memories of that summer before we left Forks returned to me. I could see her, cast-encased leg, standing in my study as the sunlight shined down on her mahogany hair.

"What's your favorite book, Carlisle?" Bella had asked, walking slowly in front of my bookcases and idly dragging her finger across the spines.

"Hmm," I had responded. "I suppose it would have to be _David__ Copperfield_."

"Really?" she had asked, turning around with what could only be described as a delighted smile on her face. "Not _Great __Expectations_? That seems to be the critical choice for Dickens' best work."

"Ah, but not the choice by Dickens himself," I'd volleyed back. "His favorite work was _David__ Copperfield_, and I stand by my choice."

She then grinned at me. "Why do you like it so much?"

"Well, because I suppose that I like David the best of all his heroes and heroines. Unlike Pip from _Great__ Expectations_, David seems filled with genuine goodness and he works very hard to achieve his aims. He also tries to live a good life, and though he loses his love for his wife and desperately wishes for Agnes, he remains true. Pip is a spoiled wastrel, who reacts with disgust when he meets his benefactor. David always loves his aunt, and tries to see the best in people, even when it isn't there."

Bella had plucked my copy of _David __Copperfield_ off the shelf and then grinned at me. "I think I will reread this one, if you don't mind?"

I waved my hand at her in acquiescence, turning back to the paperwork spread across my desk.

"Oh, and by the way," Bella had said from the doorway, calling my attention back to her. I'd looked up at her smiling face as she'd said, "I think you're like David. That's why you love him so. Like recognizes like, I think. And _David __Copperfield_? It's my favorite Charles Dickens novel too."

She'd disappeared with a labored step out the door, moving down towards Edward's room. I had turned back to my work, not aware until much later that a smile still lit my face.

Pulling myself back to the present, I told her that my family wasn't here and asked if we could meet later. There was so much that we both had to say and I knew, as much as I might dread it, Bella deserved an explanation for what happened all those years ago.

"I get off at three," I said. "Can I see you at four?"

She nodded, smiling at me before turning to go.

As Bella walked away, I watched her, my heart filling with the strangest sense of happiness and ease. I wondered at the reaction, but quickly decided that it was because Bella reminded me of one of the happiest times of my long life. It never occurred to me that it could possibly be anything else, and if it had, I would have ignored it.

Smiling to myself, I headed back into the hospital. Ah, the irony. I moved to this town to start over, and yet on my first day I was being thrust, head first, into the past.

* * *

_One quick note, in the books Carlisle is religious. I won't touch on this much or in depth, but as it is part of his character history and beliefs I thought it should be addressed a little. I really want to stay as in character for Carlisle and Bella as I can. _

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	3. Part I: Of Words and Remembrances

_In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.  
—Robert Frost_

* * *

_Chapter Three – Of Words and Remembrances_

_CPOV_

The remainder of the day passed in tedium. I tried to focus on my work, giving my best to the patient who presented with pneumonia and the new baby who came in for vaccinations. But every time I thought I had conquered myself, every time I was focused once again, the image of her eyes would return to me and I would find myself lost to chocolate depths. For one such as myself, who had always valued their mastery of themselves, I felt listless and bothered.

It was surprising to me how much seeing Bella interfered with the predictable pattern of self-pity and depressed contemplation my life had become. One would think that moving to a new town and starting in yet another hospital would be upheavals of greater magnitude, but it is not so. I cannot count the number of times through the centuries that I have played that part, restarted my life in another town. After a while, even with the benefit of perfect vampire memory, they all seem to blend and bleed together until they are all one giant intertwined mass of tedious memories. They cannot be distinguished by events, for after a while nothing is new, nothing varied. The few locations I cared to remember: Rochester, Chicago, Ashland, Gatlinburg…they were all tied to people, not places.

I have lived for hundreds of years, yet I have not been impressed by the passage of mere time. Technological developments are always interesting, but it has been humans that really make the endless years worth living. The way they endure, the way they always try. Their faith that tomorrow will be better, that _they_ can be better. Call it faith, call it the soul, it matters not. Whatever it is, that spark of human belief, it has endlessly preoccupied my mind. It is why I wish I was not a monster, why I resisted feeding on humans all those years ago. I could not, in good conscience, snuff out that spark so that I might live.

But perhaps, even more significantly, Bella is one of those humans who have always fascinated my curious mind. She is a person of endless contradictions. As a teenager, she was part clumsy child, part philosopher, part ingénue, part mature woman. None of them made sense in regards to the other, and yet she seemed oblivious to her ability to defy category. Not only that, she seemed to have so little self-worth that it was almost nonexistent.

I suppose now it is easy to see how overwhelmed and unworthy she felt in the presence of vampires. We must have been like an exclusive club, keeping her forever on the outside looking in. Little did she know how much we all loved her and would have desired her to be a part of our family, yes, even Rosalie. I wonder if Bella had any true idea of the depth of Rosalie's jealousy towards her. It was not cold feelings that kept them from becoming friends, but rather Rosalie's inner beliefs at her own inadequacies and her deep desire to have the short human existence that Bella could so easily dismiss.

I think, in a way, we all needed Bella. She reminded us of the things we had forgotten, of the frailty of the human existence. I cannot guess as to how the rest of the family felt, but to me Bella was a necessary infusion of humanity into our family. Aside from how happy she made Edward, she made the rest of us happy as well. I know that Alice still looks to her future, despite the promise she made to Edward. I know that Jasper has spent years working on his mastery so that what happened in Forks never happens again. The list goes on and on. We were all changed by her.

So to see her now, to be in her presence once again, it was rather intoxicating. I was reminded of the happiness of that summer, when she had run of my study and library. If I closed my eyes, I could even see her reclining on the couch, furrowing her brow as she intently read _Tristram__ Shandy_. It is hard to think of that time and, even now as I sat in my new office doing paperwork for my new job in my new life, if I did it was tempting to let my mind drift back to how happy we all were. The thoughts came so easily, too easily to feign disinterest in them…

"Carlisle, are you sure you don't mind me intruding on you like this?"

I had looked up from one of my journals that I was writing in, lifting the nib up from the page so that the ink wouldn't smear. Tilting my head to the side, I'd said, "It's no intrusion, Bella. It's nice to see someone take an interest in my books again."

She'd rested the book on her chest and frowned. "What do you mean?"

I had smiled at her. "Let's just say that you are more like me in your scholarly pursuits than any of my own family. My bookshelf, were it not for myself, would collect dust."

"No," she'd said, sounding scandalized. "But Edward, and Jasper…"

I'd grinned at her outraged expression. "Oh, Edward read the books that caught his interest years ago and tends to focus on his music now. And as for Jasper, he prefers reference books and new knowledge, as well as dry history tomes. Three volume novels hold little interest for him."

She had huffed a bit, settling back into the couch. I had heard her muttering to herself—she wasn't as quiet as she thought, even without vampire hearing—but I'd chosen not to comment. Pressing the nib of my fountain pen back to my scientific journal, I'd begun to write once again. Time had passed easily, with nothing but the tick of the clock and the beat of her heart keeping time. Every now and then, I would catch myself looking up and observing her in a casual manner. Bella was a fascinating person to watch. As she had read, her expressions had told what she felt about each passage. It was easy to read her thoughts. I'd wondered at the idea that Edward was so frustrated with not being able to hear her, of finding himself in the dark when it came to her. I had thought her extremely easy to read, myself. Edward largely ignored expression, finding it of little consequence when the whole of the human mind was open to him. But I'd thought he did himself a disservice when he did that. My own thoughts rarely presented the whole story, often only snippets of what I really felt about a subject, and limited to what was passing through my mind at that moment. It was only surface, no depth. So he missed her visage of frustration when she clenched her jaw, or her uneasiness when she bit her lip, or the way her nostrils flared when she was angry, or even the small furrow that came between her eyebrows when she was thinking.

That furrow appeared then, so I knew she was going to open her mouth even before she did. "Carlisle?"

"Yes?" I then answered, keeping the amusement regarding my foresight from my voice.

"Thank you for letting me read your books."

I had smiled. "You are quite welcome Bella."

Slamming my pen down on my desk, I yanked myself from my memories. I couldn't remember; I just couldn't. Remembering meant thinking about Esme and Edward and what the Cullens used to be. Ignoring the impulse to growl in frustration, I finished up my paperwork and shrugged off my lab coat, hanging it on the hook behind the door. Grabbing my keys off the desk, I turned off my office light and closed the door behind me. When I reached the reception area, I nodded goodnight to the nurses stationed there. One of them tried to give me a suggestive look, but I didn't respond with anything but polite formality. I had found over the years that the best thing to do was simply ignore it. Most women are too afraid of vampires, whether they know it or not, to do anything beyond giving longing glances and easy flirtation.

I let my mind shift into neutral on the drive home, simply enjoying the scenery and the natural atmosphere that comes from living at the edge of the wilderness. The trees there were different from Washington. They are much smaller and grouped close together. There was also a different feeling to the forests in the Northeast. They were older, and felt weary. I couldn't make it out most of the time, but when I gave myself over to my senses on the hunt, I could almost feel the forest whispering to me. It was weary, just like me.

Pulling off onto a dirt road, I drove the short distance to my new home. I still had some time before I had to go see Bella, so I went into the study and opened my computer to check my email. Unsurprisingly, I had one from Alice.

_Hey Carlisle! _

_I snuck into New Delhi to email from an internet café. My phone has been hijacked by a well-meaning, yet annoying, husband of mine. He promises me I will get it back once we get to Paris, but I am starting to lose confidence. We have been in here at the Himalaya Hatha Yoga Ashram for only nine days, and I can feel myself becoming less shallow. Help!_

_How's life in the small town? Bored silly without me yet? I have tried looking to your future, but it's really blurry. Are you making a lot of contradicting decisions? Whatever it is, stop it! I don't feel right when I can't see my family. Well, anyway, I better go. If Jasper knew I was being so sneaky, I am sure he would say hello._

_Ciao!_  
_Alice_

_P.S. Comcast is going to split its shares, and Diamler is about to get a bump!_

Huh. How odd. For the first time in a long time, Alice couldn't see me. It was a rather heady idea. I couldn't remember the last time her visions had blanked when it came to me. She sometimes had it happen with Jasper when he was having issues with control, but to my knowledge it had never happened with me. I realized then that this meant Alice hadn't seen Bella. She had no idea who was here, in that small town she mocked, with me.

I felt a wicked grin tugging at my lips. Would it be too horrible to keep this little secret to myself for now? After all, it wasn't every day I had one up on Alice. I resolved to tell her in a week or so, if her visions didn't tell her first. I was sure that once she heard, Alice would come here to see Bella before continuing on to Europe. Alice would be so happy to see Bella again and Bella…my confidence failed me. The truth was, I had no idea if Bella would welcome a visit from Alice or not. I wondered too what her feelings were towards me and the rest of my family. Was she angry at us leaving all those years ago? She said she was happy to see me, but did she mean it?

Heading into my bedroom, I stripped off my clothes, changing into something more comfortable. I easily pulled on my jeans while looking around the room with some satisfaction. I really loved this bedroom. It had two sets of double French doors that opened onto a deck that overlooked the stream in my backyard, and extended into the forest. I had furnished the room with a rich mahogany four-poster bed with a matching set of bedside tables and wardrobe, eschewing the more modern type furnishings that Esme had favored. I had used rich colors in my decoration too, mentally thumbing my nose at my father who thought color should be reserved for nature and never for furnishings or clothing. Esme too had favored neutral colors in our bedroom, and I hadn't thought it worth disagreeing about at the time. It is strange to look back now and realize how much I allowed for fear of disagreement. No wonder she was shocked when I disagreed with Edward that day.

The sun began to descend, and I knew it was time for me to leave. I hastily threw on a sweater and tied my casual shoes. I slipped my cell phone into my pocket, and headed downstairs. Before leaving, I threw on a jacket out of habit and the need for camouflage. Sometimes I wondered what it would be like to really feel cold. Even in negative temperatures I barely noticed anything beyond the need for long sleeves.

Stepping outside, I descended the steps and paused, inhaling deeply. The forest came alive easily for me. I could hear the fluttering heartbeats of the small animals in the trees, the hiding hunter two miles away, and a flock of geese taking to the sky three miles beyond that. I forced those stimuli aside, focusing instead on a familiar scent that I would know anywhere. I took in the breeze, allowing it to direct my senses and to sample the flavors that were coming from the town. I could smell coffee, dandelions, musk, oak, pine…and then there it was: roses, freesia, and spring.

I barely felt my feet begin to move, but before I knew it I was running. Running towards that smell from my past, the one drawing me onward and towards that feeling of home. The trees flew by at what would be a blurred pace for a human, but I still saw all their definition, though it didn't matter. I was following the scent to Bella's house.

The house itself was situated on the banks of the St. Croix River about half a mile away from the river proper. It was small—could be no more than two bedrooms, painted a merry blue, with purple irises planted in the front. When I arrived, I stood outside it for a moment, my mind going briefly to that old superstition about vampires not being able to enter a home uninvited. It was, I thought, for homes like this. For people who lived their lives and didn't wish to be bothered by the supernatural, by myths and stories. For people who lived simply, full of faith and the belief that they were safe in their own homes.

Walking up to the door, I knocked. I could hear her thudding heartbeat inside suddenly burst into a staccato and I wished for nothing more than to ease her mind. The last thing I wanted was to cause her pain. I was there to talk, not distress her.

When she opened the door, I tried to smile gently at her. "Bella, I guess my tracking skills still work."

She laughed, and I could have sworn my heart came to life in my chest. Curious.

Smiling, she said, "Something tells me you didn't have to try very hard in a town of 4,000 people."

"True," I laughed dryly.

She invited me in, and I was suddenly reminded of my earlier thought about people who took comfort in the thought that monsters could not darken their door.

Bella had never been one of those people. She was a woman who had always opened the door wide, and invited the monster in.

* * *

_BPOV_

My thoughts were chaotic as I waited for Carlisle. I paced through my living room as the sun dipped lower and lower in the horizon, the minutes ticking down until he would come.

As much as I wanted to see him again, to hear about all the time I had missed with the family I had once wanted to belong to so badly, I was nervous too. It had taken me so long to get healthy. So long to be myself again, I didn't want to even think about how this could change that. Logically, I knew Carlisle's presence could only be a good thing, but I feared that though his family wasn't with him now, they would be soon. I had no desire to see Edward again; I didn't think I could face him. Not yet.

In no time, there was a knock on my door. With trembling hands and a thudding heart, I walked to the front hall and opened my door.

A nervous smile lit his face, and he sighed when he saw me. "Bella," he said, "I guess my tracking skills still work." He looked so uncertain that I felt myself soften towards him. Maybe this didn't have to be awkward.

I laughed. "Something tells me you didn't have to try very hard in a town of 4,000 people."

"True," he responded with a chuckle.

"Come in," I said. Stepping aside, I let him in and closed the door behind him. He walked through the entryway, looking around my home with a smile on his face. I tried to guess what it looked like through his eyes. The dining room, living room, and kitchen were all connected with no walls, only pillars separating them, and a small hallway led to my room and bathroom in the back. There were wide bay windows with window seats, and a large fireplace in the living room. I thought it was charming, but I could only imagine what Carlisle, who was used to mansions, thought of it.

"This is your home?" he murmured, a smile playing about his lips. "It suits you perfectly."

His voice was so warm that I couldn't take it as anything but a compliment. I rubbed my hands together, leading him into the living room. "Come in," I said, smiling. "Sit down. Would you like something to drink?"

A wry smile lit his face, and he lifted one of his eyebrows in a playful gesture. "Are you offering?" he asked.

A startled laugh escaped my mouth before I could stop it, and I realized how my question had sounded. "Umm, no I wasn't. Sorry, that was kinda insensitive."

"That's all right," Carlisle said, smiling gently. "It was nice to be offered. It made me feel…"

"Awkward?" I offered.

"Human," Carlisle said, firmly.

I smiled nervously at him, shivering a bit.

"Do I make you nervous, Bella?"

"No," I lied. "I'm just cold."

Wordlessly, Carlisle stood and walked over to the fireplace. He knelt down, opening the damper and laying down kindling. With efficient movements, he soon had it burning cheerily. I watched him in fascination, noting the strength and elegance of his hands as he worked. His were hands that were meant to be working, to be moving. Edward's hands had been so distinguished. With his long tapered fingers, he was born to use them to create music. Carlisle, I was sure, had hands that were meant for caring. Whether it was for a patient, or a shivering friend.

Pulling wood from the hearth, Carlisle put it into the grate. He added a little more kindling, and in no time there was a blaze burning.

"First fire in this house," I murmured, smiling at him gratefully. "Thank you for doing that."

"It was nothing," Carlisle said, sitting down on the sofa. I took a chair next to it, not wanting to crowd him with my proximity.

"Sorry for this morning," Carlisle said after a while. "I wish neither of us had been blindsided like that. I wish Alice had told me what was going to happen."

I looked up, trying to hide the desperate need for knowledge in my eyes. "Why didn't she?"

Carlisle shrugged, and I hid my smile at the gesture that he made look so effortless, though I knew it wasn't natural for him. "She is with Jasper at an ashram in India at the moment. According to her most recent email, I am a little blurry at the moment. It's probably nothing. She might have even had a vision of you and I by now, but she doesn't have a phone while there. "

I couldn't wrap my head around that. "An ashram? _Alice_ in an ashram?"

A grin quirked at Carlisle's lips. "She and her husband have a little bet going. If she stays there three months, Jasper has agreed to take her on a six month shopping trip through Europe."

"Ah, now I understand," I said with a grin, remembering my bubbly and happy friend who I had loved so well.

Carlisle gave me an answering smile. Looking at him, his features bathed in firelight, I was surprised to discover that I still felt a deep connection to him and so at ease in his presence. But, it made sense really. This man sitting before me was one that knew everything about my life during Forks. There were no secrets, and anything he did not know about my life now was not hidden because of necessity. With Carlisle, I could have an open dialogue that was simply impossible with my mother or my friends from college without being locked in a mental institution.

"So, you are a teacher," he murmured, his eyes soft and happy. He was happy for me, I realized.

"Yes," I said, thinking about my class and all the wonderful students in it. "I spent some time with children in college, working as a lifeguard and giving swimming lessons, and it all just fell into place, you know? It seemed so easy to go from that to teaching."

"You're a wonderful teacher," Carlisle said, his voice sure.

"How do you know that?" I asked playfully. "You have never seen me teach."

"Your face says it all," Carlisle replied. "You light up when you talk about your students. But even if you didn't talk about them that way, I would know what a great teacher you are from observing you with Matt Merkowski this morning."

"That was nothing," I shrugged.

He shook his head. "Bella, that boy had a deep incision on his hand. It took twenty stitches to close it. But you, you had him smiling and laughing all the while that you applied pressure to his hand. This, on top of the fact that I know you get sick at the sight of blood." His eyes met mine with quiet conviction that I could not question. "You are a wonderful teacher, Bella."

My cheeks heated, and I knew I was blushing. "Thank you."

He smiled softly. "Some things never change I see."

I laughed, hardly recognizing the sound. "No, some things never do."

"But you have," Carlisle said suddenly, surprising me. His voice was full of something—was it awe? "When I last saw you," he said, "you were a very different Bella."

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head, as if he too didn't know what he was trying to say. "You were so…uncertain of yourself then, nervous about everything. But now, you have this quiet confidence about you."

"I grew up," I said, just as softly. "Five years is a long time. For a human, at least."

"Yes," he murmured. "It is. You were just eighteen then, and yet you knew exactly what you wanted out of life. You were so unchangeable, so sure of what was and was not right for you."

I chuckled, thinking back at how young I was back then. "I was a bit stubborn. There was a whole world out there, but I refused to even consider it. What a brat I was."

"You were charming," Carlisle corrected me. I know I must have blushed again, but Carlisle didn't comment on it. "You had a birthday recently. You're twenty-three now?"

I nodded, a cheeky grin pulling at my lips. I could not fight it back. "Same as you."

He laughed, and I shivered. I had forgotten how much I loved to listen to their laughter. It was like the sound of melodic bells or wind chimes blowing in the breeze.

"Yes," he said, "I guess we are the same age now, aren't we?"

"Give or take a century or three," I said grinning.

He nodded back at me. "Yes, that's true."

Silence settled over us then, but it was not uncomfortable. Leaning back into my chair, I stared into the fire as I listened to the crackle and spitting of the wood. As the orange flames licked their way through the wood, I realized that I had missed Carlisle's company. In those brief summer months I had spent with Edward after Phoenix, Carlisle had often offered me a friendly ear when I ventured into his office. He had given me full reign of his immense library, and whenever I would return a book, he had always wanted to know my opinion and thoughts on the subject. Many happy hours had been spent discussing diverse topics; from _The__ Divine__ Comedy_ to _Gulliver__'__s__ Travels_.

"So, aren't you going to ask me?"

His question broke into my thoughts.

"Ask you what?" I replied, shifting slightly to look at him.

"Ask me about my family? Ask me how I went from a husband and father of five to a young man just out of medical school? How I ended up here alone…with you?" His voice had an edge to it that I had never heard from him before.

"I was wondering," I admitted, "but if you don't want to talk about it…"

Carlisle sighed. "Sorry for snapping at you, it is certainly not your fault." His eyes grew pensive and distant as he looked into the fire. He took a long moment before speaking.

"Nothing was the same after we left you," he began. He had plucked a walnut from the bowl of them I kept on my end table, rolling it back and forth between his hands. "We moved to Ithaca initially. I worked at the hospital there in the evening, and I taught part time at Cornell. Esme occupied her time with restoring this old historical home. Alice was off researching her past, while Jasper at the university getting a degree in philosophy. Rosalie and Emmett married for the millionth time and went on an extended vacation. And as for Edward," Carlisle searched my face to see my reaction. When I gave him none, he continued, "And as for Edward, he was in South America one week, Australia the next; never settling, barely communicating. I didn't notice then, but the fissures in our family had already begun to form. What happened in Forks never sat right with me, Alice, and Emmett."

"You mean with me," I interjected. I tried to keep the hurt I felt out of my voice, but I doubt I was successful. I continued, "You mean with meeting me."

"No!" Carlisle exclaimed, his voice emphatic. "I meant with _leaving_ you."

I stared at him in shock. It wasn't a family decision?

"You have to understand, Bella," he said firmly, "It wasn't a cut and dry choice to leave Forks."

I felt so confused, as if everything I knew was being turned on its axis. "I don't get it," I admitted, my voice conveying my confusion. "Edward said…"

"Yes, well, Edward said quite a bit," Carlisle said, his voice full of sadness and a trace of anger, a tone I had never thought to hear from him. He then softened his manner, continuing, "The night before we left Forks, Edward called a family meeting. He told us all how we were a danger to you, how our existence was ruining your life. He went on and on about how you were entitled to live without us, how we were so dangerous to you. What happened with Jasper only fed the fire."

"But I never blamed Jasper—"

"I know, Bella," Carlisle cut in. "He knew it too, he was just using it as an excuse. Alice was so mad at him, manipulating what happened with Jasper like that. She kept saying we had to stay, how bad things would get if we didn't, but it was no use. We took a vote. Alice, Emmett, and I all voted to stay, but we were out numbered. Jasper felt so guilty for what happened, he wanted to do right by you, and Edward used that. I think you can guess Rosalie's reaction and Esme…" Carlisle clenched his jaw. "She allowed herself to be persuaded." The nut he had been rolling between his fingers suddenly became a fine powder.

"Anyway, we pretty much scattered when we got to Ithaca, and all the tension that had been building between all of us just multiplied. Edward was barely calling, and when he did he would only speak to Esme or Alice. Jasper was so wracked with guilt that it was difficult to be around him. Esme threw herself into that house; I barely saw her. Alice was distracted by her search for answers that she didn't see what was coming for all of us until it was far too late." He sighed, a pensive look coming over him. I wanted to move closer, to take his hands in mine and tell him it would be okay, but I didn't know if he wanted comfort from me.

Continuing in a low voice, he said, "After about six months, we all met up in Denali and things were…tense. While we were there, Alice had a vision of Victoria in Forks. We all left immediately, even the Denali Coven. They didn't want to, but they were convinced when Irina confessed that Laurent was working for Victoria again. They felt guilty for having offered him shelter. We discovered, from Alice's visions and when we got to Forks, that Victoria, with the help of Laurent, had raised a newborn army, and they were slowly killing off the citizens of Seattle and Forks."

"I heard about that," I interjected, remembering a phone call during one of my zombie months. "Charlie thought it was a wild animal. It didn't even occur to me that it was Victoria."

"Yes, well," Carlisle said, shifting uneasily, "apparently she was looking for you. She wanted revenge for James; she didn't realize you moved."

I looked down at my hands, biting on my lip as I thought of the danger I had unknowingly put Charlie in.

Carlisle went silent for a while, his eyes staring into the fire as he seemed to recount some painful memories. "When Edward heard that we were returning to Forks, he went ballistic. He came up from South America so angry, not even realizing that you weren't there. Eventually, we dealt with Victoria's coven, killing all the newborns with the help of the Denali. Without them…I don't know what would have happened." Carlisle shifted slightly, as if there was more to the story he couldn't tell me. "Jasper was rather invaluable in the fight."

Yep, he was hiding something.

He kept talking. "After it was over, Edward wanted us to leave again without alerting anyone from the town that we were there. Alice though—God, I have never seen her so furious—she wanted to talk to Charlie to find out where you were, what you were doing. Apparently, when she would look for you, all she would see was you sitting in a window seat, looking out at the ocean. She thought her visions were defective."

I ducked my head down, not wanting to tell Carlisle that the reason that Alice saw that was because it was all I did for months on end.

"After the Denali Coven went home, we all got into this huge fight. Edward was screaming at Alice for looking into your future, and Jasper was growling at Edward for talking to his wife that way. Esme was trying to keep the peace, Rosalie just sat back and let it happen, and Emmett was joining in on Alice's side. And then suddenly, Alice got a vision of you."

"Of me?" I asked, shocked.

"Yes," Carlisle said. "It was you, and you were walking on the beach with your mother and you were laughing. Then there was another of you wearing a college sweatshirt, talking to this faceless boy. And then another, and another, all leading to your graduation from college. For months, Alice had seen nothing, but in that moment it was like she was bombarded with images of you. Of this happy future you would have."

"And Edward saw them all," I finished for him.

"And Edward saw them all," Carlisle agreed with a nod. "He saw it as a vindication of what we did by leaving you. You getting to live, have a normal life, he said that was all he ever wanted for you."

"It wasn't his decision," I muttered, my hands clenched in my lap as I thought of all the pain I had endured because of it. I had basically figured out his motives for what happened that day in the forest, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

"Of course not," Carlisle affirmed, "but _he_ saw it that way."

We were silent for a while after that, until I finally said, "I don't get it. Why didn't things go back to normal after that?"

"Too much had happened," he said, his eyes darkening with pain. "We weren't the same people anymore. Edward, shortly after that, announced his intention to leave again and we all just snapped. I didn't recognize him anymore, and Alice's feelings were nearing hate for him. Esme and I were fighting all the time, and eventually, she decided to go with him. 'I think we should all take a break,' she said. As if our family could be fixed by a timeout." Carlisle's fingers dragged through his perfect hair in anxious yanks. "Anyway, Rosalie and Emmett went off again, and Esme went with Edward to South America. Alice and Jasper came back to Ithaca with me, but they couldn't stay for long. It was simply too depressing. They started traveling as well. I moved shortly after that." Carlisle's eyes turned reflective. "I haven't seen Rosalie, Emmett, or Edward in four years. Alice and Jasper visit me from time to time, staying for a few months and then moving on."

"And Esme?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Oh, I saw her all right," Carlisle said with a mirthless laugh. "She came to visit me when I was working in Astoria, Oregon. To serve me with divorce papers." His voice then turned compassionate, as if he couldn't bear to blame her for anything. "She said we weren't the same. I guess she was right, but I was so angry at everything, at her, at Edward…"

"At me?" I couldn't help but ask.

Carlisle's head shot up. "What? No! I never blamed you, Bella. You were the victim in all this. Edward had one thing right. We wrecked your life when we pulled you into our world, but once you were there, we should have fought for you! Neither Alice nor I have ever forgiven ourselves for leaving you."

I felt compelled to speak, to explain, but when the words came, they were halting. "I felt…no, I must start earlier." I rose and walked over to the window, looking out into the inky darkness of my backyard.

Clearing my throat, I said, "I'm sure…" I paused again, gathering my thoughts. I _had_ to make him understand what it was like for me, to make him see. Settling my mind on what to say, I began in a low tone. "I am sure that you know the story of the _Iliad_. No doubt you have read it in one of your many sleepless nights."

I turned to him and he nodded his head, unwilling or unable to speak and interrupt my thoughts. I continued on, "Well, once, over that summer after James's attack, Edward was teasing me, calling me his own personal Helen of Troy. I thought nothing of it at the time, laughing it off because it never occurred to me that he really believed me to be that beautiful." I shook my head ruefully. "I had so little self-worth then. Anyway, I forgot about it and it wasn't until later that I thought back on that day, examining what he meant. Not about the beauty, of course, that had little importance. No, I thought about who Helen really is, and what she represented. She, in essence, was destruction. By simply existing, she destroyed one great civilization and left another in ruins. It is ironic now if you think about it, considering all the destruction that can be laid at my feet."

He opened his mouth to speak, perhaps to contradict me and tell me once again that he didn't blame me, but I raised my hand for silence. I had to get this out now, or I never would.

Looking back out the window, I continued, "But now I think Edward had it wrong. I wasn't Helen, I never could be. No, I was, and am, Cassandra. I have no visions, no prophecy to speak of, but I have been touched by the gods. I have seen miraculous actions, sat at the feet of monsters, and trembled before deities. I have lived with, and loved, those I was never meant to know of, never meant to see." I turned to face him, tears coursing down my cheeks. "But it is Cassandra's curse that haunts me. For I have been touched by gods, and can tell no one. For who would believe me? While I would never reveal your secret, had I even the desire to I would be called a liar. My word would be doubted and everyone would think me crazy. Just as no one ever believed the prophecies Cassandra spoke. I was given the greatest, cruelest gift imaginable: knowledge of the gods, and an inability to join them." I could stop my tears and I didn't want to. It felt so _good_ to express all the things I had been holding back for so long. "I wanted to be part of your family; I can't even begin to tell you how much. I loved you all so intensely."

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Emotion was swimming in his ochre eyes and as his pupils expanded, the black of them was swallowing the gold. He stood and stalked slowly towards me. His steps were silent, but measured. When he stood before me, no words were spoken. He just took me in his arms gently.

"Oh, Bella," he whispered, resting his cheek on my hair. His voice sounded so broken and regretful. "Can you ever forgive me? Forgive me for my part?"

Pulling back slightly, but not out of his arms, I looked up at him and whispered, "There is nothing to forgive."

Venom pooled in those amber eyes and he sighed, "I had forgotten how kind you are, how good." He cupped my face in his firm hands, brushing away my tears.

There was an endless and enduring meaning in his eyes, but I could not decipher it.

"It is wonderful to see you again, Bella," he whispered, his lips barely moving.

"You too, Carlisle," I murmured, "you too."

I then settled myself against his chest, reveling in the safety I felt in his embrace. For the first time in five years, I felt the comfort of a cold marble chest.

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	4. Part I: Of Friendship and Feeling

"_Because," he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you—especially when you are near to me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land, come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapped; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly."_

—_Jane__ Eyre,__ Charlotte__ Brontë_

* * *

_Chapter Four – Of Friendship and Feeling_

_BPOV_

It could have been days, or hours, or minutes that I stood in his arms. It didn't matter, but however long it was…that hole inside my chest—the one that I had painstakingly managed to scab over after years of experience and hard work—began to knit closed all on its own, refining the edges and smoothing away the jagged scar.

Maybe this was all I ever needed. An acknowledgment or some sort agreement that yes, my time in Forks did happen. That no, I wasn't crazy.

Vampires were real, and they really were cold, felt of marble, and sparkled in the sunlight. One of the worst things that Edward took from me was my ability to believe in people, but now, standing in Carlisle's arms, that faith was restored.

I knew then that I had healed all together. I no longer had to fear dating, and the next time I heard Edward's name would be with nostalgia instead of panic. My relief was acute, and yet almost troubling. I had lived so long with my walls carefully built around my heart that I trembled as they tumbled down.

Carlisle rubbed my arms a little as he pulled back, looking into my eyes in a searching manner. "Are you okay? You seem a million miles away."

Looking into his eyes, I could only have one answer. "Yeah, you know, I think I am perfect."

He smiled at me, and I tried to hide the hitch it caused in my breathing. My heart started pounding, and I knew, much to my dismay, that I couldn't hide that. "I'm glad," he said. "Maybe I should go. It's getting late."

I turned and looked at the clock; it was well after ten. When had spent five hours together? The thought was unfathomable. "Yeah," I managed to say, stepping back. I made a stab at wiping my cheeks, but my tears had long since dried in salty trails down my face. "I have an early day tomorrow, as I am sure you do too."

He gave me a grin that made him look positively boyish. "Well, I don't think I will be suffering from sleep deprivation, if that is what you are worried about."

"Right," I said, laughing a little. "Of course not."

He turned from me, casting one last look towards the fireplace, and then walked to the door. His eyes were nearly black when he turned at the door to look at me. "Can I see you tomorrow?"

My shock could not have been more complete. Of all the things I expected him to say, that was probably the least likely. He wanted to see me again? I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

"It would be nice to have one friend here," Carlisle said quietly, and I knew exactly what he meant. One person to know everything; with whom secrets weren't necessary. "I've had a family for so long," he continued. "These last few years have been hard. Lonely."

I could understand that, better than I wanted to. His eyes were so sincere, so human, that in that moment I couldn't refuse. "Well, I always stop by Dottie's around seven-thirty in the morning. Do you know where it is?" As soon as I said it, I remembered that Linda had mentioned him to me that morning. Oh, well.

Carlisle smiled wryly. "Ah, yes, I am familiar. I'll meet you there."

Just like that, he disappeared into the night.

The next morning dawned with a smattering of cloud cover that I was sure Carlisle would be appreciative of. When I got out of bed and looked out the window, the tendrils of fog were creeping across the wet blades of my lawn. I yawned, stretching my arms up to the ceiling. I don't know why, but that morning I felt hopeful. Hopeful in a way that I couldn't remember ever being, neither before Edward nor after him. This was a new kind of feeling. One borne of healing and growth. I was now twenty-three years old, and my life seemed, finally, to be heading in the exact direction that I wanted it to.

After a quick shower and hurried dressing, I walked the short distance to the diner. I smiled at people along the way, not understanding their surprised faces when they saw me. Clapping my hands together to keep away the fall chill, I stepped into the diner as the bell above the door jingled.

The sight that greeted me was shocking, yet pleasing. Carlisle was leaning on the counter, talking to Linda, and they both were laughing. It was so nice to see him that way, relaxed and happy. The sleeves of his cream sweater were rolled up, bearing his strong forearms. His tan slacks fit him perfectly, as well exposing his firm backside. I forced my eyes away, and scolded myself soundly, but I could not prevent the clenching I felt in my abdomen. It reminded me much of the way I felt when I first saw him in the hospital, all those years ago.

"Here she is!"

I was pulled from my mental wanderings by Linda's happy announcement. Walking over to the counter, I smiled. "Morning!"

"Isabella, you sneaky thing. You didn't tell me that you knew Dr. Cullen here," Linda's hands were on her hips, but she looked as if she had just been given the greatest gift of gossip in years.

"Well," I said, feeling slightly uneasy, "If you remember, you never said the new doctor's name."

"Hmm, that's true, honey."

"Plus, there are many Cullens in the world," Carlisle put in, pretending to take a sip of the coffee he had been served. "I am sure it wouldn't have occurred to her that the Cullen who moved here was the one she went to high school with."

Oh, so that was the cover story. Looking over at Carlisle's head, I nodded slightly to agree with him. "Plus, we barely knew each other back then. You were a couple years older than me."

"Dr. Cullen said you dated his brother, Isabella," Martha put in, coming over to refill Carlisle's to-go coffee cup, even though it wasn't necessary. Carlisle looked up, his face so completely apologetic that I forgave him instantly.

"Yes, his younger brother Edward," I said, taking the package that Linda had set on the counter before me. "He was in my year."

"In Jacksonville?" Linda asked. She then turned to Carlisle, "You didn't say where you two went to school together."

"Uh, no," I cut in, not wanting Carlisle to misstep. "I knew him and his family when I lived in Phoenix."

"That's right," Carlisle cut in. "But we lost touch when I went away to school. I didn't even know you had moved."

I smiled, hoping I seemed believable to Martha and Linda. I had never been a very good actress. "Guess it was just good fortune to run into you again here."

Carlisle stood then, tossing a five dollar bill on the counter and picking up his jacket. He then handed me one of the to-go coffees he was holding. Turning to me, he said, "Are you heading to the school? I'll walk you."

Smiling, I nodded. Carlisle took my arm and led me from the diner. I knew then that his action would cause some gossip in the town, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Once we were free of the gazes of the occupants of the diner, Carlisle turned to me and said, "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to tell her so much but when she asked how I knew you…"

I laughed a bit. "Don't worry; she has a way of stealing secrets."

"Yes, I can tell," Carlisle said. "I will have to watch myself around her."

We lapsed into silence for a little while, our footfalls making no noise as we walked the slight distance towards the hospital and school. I could smell the eggs from my food, but I ignored my rumbling stomach, which could wait until I got to my classroom. The breeze came with a morning chill, and I wondered how wound up my students would be that day. When we reached the front of the hospital, I noticed that his car was parked in the lot.

"Did you drive here and then walk to Dottie's?" I asked.

"Yes, my shift at the hospital started a couple of hours ago. I am on a break at the moment," Carlisle said. He then cleared his throat, looking at the car. "I have a place, outside of town, in the forest. It is nothing for me to run here, but for anyone else, the distance would be too great."

I smiled. "I see. What happened to your old Mercedes? You loved that car so intensely."

He chuckled. "Well, the transmission was rather destroyed, but without Rosalie around… I never really had the patience to fix my own car."

I couldn't picture Carlisle under the hood of a car. The idea of him getting grease on his immaculate clothes was unimaginable.

We paused in front of the sliding glass doors, and Carlisle squeezed my hand gently. "What are you doing after work?"

"Umm, correcting spelling tests." I then grinned. "But considering, they are first graders, it shouldn't take long. What did you have in mind?"

"I get off at three," he said. "I can meet you at your house around four again. Would you take a walk with me then? There is a place I'd like to show you."

"All right," I said, nodding.

With a quick wave, he disappeared behind the automatic glass doors, returning to his job.

For the rest of the day, my thoughts were with Carlisle. I thought over and over about his words, what they meant and what he was trying to say. I then played them against the man that I had known back in Forks. He was so different now, or perhaps it was I who was different. His consideration and kindness were still there, but there was a playfulness to him that I had never seen before. And there was an easiness to our conversations that freed us in a way. Back then, when I was seventeen, there had always been a distance to our discussions, an invisible wall that kept us from having too much common ground. But now, inexplicably, that wall was gone. We were on equal footing; hell, physically we were even the same age.

After school was let out, I sat at my desk and made quick work of the spelling tests and arithmetic worksheets that needed to be graded. Once they were completed, I straightened up the classroom before grabbing my jacket and hurrying home. The walk to my house took longer than ever, and I couldn't even properly appreciate the changing leaves or the beauty of the fall day. Carlisle Cullen had put a spell on me.

When I arrived home, I changed into a long sleeve top, a sweater, and jeans, lacing up my hiking boots, just in case. I then walked into the kitchen, and slapped a sandwich together for myself. As I nibbled on the roasted turkey and tomato, I thought back to the last time I had been alone with Carlisle before the previous day. It had been the night of my birthday, when he sat with me and stitched me up. He had been so calm then, so sure and steady. His faith in God had been so unyielding, and he had professed a hope in an afterlife for his kind. I remembered too that he had been convinced that my issues with Edward and him turning me had to be worked out between us. I wondered if Carlisle now regretted that stance. Perhaps he thought back on that moment and saw it as a cause which led to his own family's destruction. I couldn't be sure, but I thought my life might have taken a very different path had Carlisle chosen to stand up to Edward.

At 4:03, there was a knock on the door that pulled me from my hazy memories. Setting down the crusts of my sandwich, I walked to the door and opened it. A happy smile unconsciously went to my face when I saw Carlisle there.

He too had changed and was now wearing jeans and a dark grey cable knit sweater. On his feet were boots similar to mine, and his face was lit with an excited expression. "Well," he said, when he saw me. "Are you ready to go?"

I nodded happily, stepping out onto the porch and locking the door behind me. I left my purse behind, only taking the key which I placed in my front pocket. Carlisle led me over to his car. I slid inside onto the buttery leather seats, willing myself not to purr at the gorgeous interior. I hadn't been in a car as nice as this since the Cullens left Forks, and it was nice to experience one again.

Carlisle quickly navigated the car down a two lane road that ran parallel to the St. Croix River. I stared out the window, watching as the falling leaves were swallowed into the churning currents.

"What are you thinking about?"

I turned my head away from the river, looking into Carlisle's curious eyes. "Not of anything important. Just about how much Calais reminds me of Forks and then, almost like it was kismet, a Cullen appears."

Carlisle smiled at me, making my stomach flutter. He really was too good looking for my peace of mind. He always had been. I could still remember how his movie star good looks had made my breath catch the first time I saw him. His smile was disarming as he said, "I hope, despite the shock of my appearance, that it wasn't a bad surprise?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I thought it yesterday and I thought it today, your coming here was a good thing for me, I think."

"How so?" he asked, his voice full of gentle curiosity.

I sighed, returning to my gazing out the window. After a moment, while I watched the ebb and flow of the river, I said, "It took me a long time to get over what happened with Edward. I think now that I was sort of expecting him to return for a long time." I looked over at Carlisle and found him watching me closely. His attention was not at all focused on the road, yet I knew he was fully aware of what was happening. Continuing on, I whispered, "That first year was…well, awful would be a mild term for it. I was simply existing, and if my mom didn't remind me to eat, I would have forgotten all together. When she came to get me in Forks, about a week after you all left, I was practically catatonic. She took me back to Jacksonville and it took me a good nine months before I was even a shadow of the Bella you knew. But eventually, she pulled me out of it. I was so lost, but my mom never stopped looking for me. Without Renée, well, I don't know what would have happened."

A cool hand took mine, intertwining our fingers. I didn't look over at Carlisle, but the comfort of that small gesture was profound in my mind. I kept on speaking, wanting to finish as soon as possible, "Over the next four years, I got myself back. I even did things that I never would have been able to before. I learned to dance, play baseball; I traveled, learned a new language. I just lived, you know? Looking back at how I was with Edward…it wasn't good. I let him, and our relationship, become the focus of my life. I forgot all of the things that made me…well, _me_. Going to college was a cathartic experience for me, and I was almost fully recovered, but seeing you again, remembering Forks again, I feel like I am finally done healing."

"Seeing me has helped?" Carlisle asked, his voice incredulous.

I turned to him and offered a sheepish smile. "I think I had to remember about the past in order to let it all go, you know? Seeing you again is like a weight off my shoulders as far as my feelings with Edward are concerned."

"What do you mean? By seeing me you stop loving him?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "By seeing you, I can finally let go of my anger for him." I squeezed his cool hand, wishing that he could understand. "I stopped loving Edward in a romantic way a long time ago. I remember him with fondness and tenderness, and our time together with love, but that romantic, can't-live-without-you feeling that I always had for him? I lost that long ago. But I did carry around a lot of anger. Or maybe it was just regret."

"Why?" Carlisle asked, turning the car to the left into a little parking lot that had a trailhead on the far side.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, dropping our joined hands and turned my body more fully towards Carlisle.

"So much of what happened between us was his decision. _He_ decided not to turn me, _he_ decided when to bring me into his life, _he_ decided to leave. I was really angry for a long time because I thought, and still think, that he took away my choices. Maybe he didn't want me to be a vampire, but how was it his decision to decide? Had I wanted it, shouldn't he have allowed me to make up my own mind?" Carlisle opened his mouth to respond, but I continued on. "Say he was right about me losing my soul when I became a vampire. If the change was my choice, it was my soul to risk. My choice. When he left me in the forest that day, I told him I didn't care about my soul, that he could have it. But in a way, I am glad he didn't take it, because I now know he wasn't the man for me. And that is why I was mad for so long. I was mad because it took me years to discover that the love between me and Edward, the one I rated so highly, was already doomed. He didn't love me, not really."

"Bella," Carlisle said, taking both my hands in his. He met my eyes, his own so full of conviction. "Edward loved you. He loves you still. I am sure of it. I know that he left because he wanted you to have a normal life."

"Yes, _he_ wanted me to have a normal life. That wasn't what I wanted, Carlisle. He would have rather martyred himself than love me, really and truly." I wanted Carlisle to understand. I _needed_ him to understand. "Love— real love —is not about your own needs and wants. It is about doing whatever you can to secure the happiness of the one you love. By leaving, Edward didn't secure my happiness. He gave me nothing but agony and emptiness. Did you know that I haven't been in a relationship since high school? How could I? I could never be in a relationship with secrets, and all I know about vampires ensures that I will always carry secrets." I patted the top of Carlisle's hand, trying to ease the sting from my words. I didn't want to be harsh, but he needed to know how I felt. "Edward may have loved me, but it was a young love. It was more selfish than giving, more needy than true. But in a way I am thankful for that. I never would have known how wrong that type of love was for me had he not left. I owe him for the experiences his leaving gave me, and yet I am resentful of that too."

"And also," I paused. "And also I feel bad because a lot of it wasn't Edward's fault. He made the decisions, he told me how things would be…but the truth is, I let him. I wish that I had been strong enough to stand up to him, to tell him what I thought. I always thought our love was so unequal—that's why no gifts—but it was only that way because I didn't believe he loved me, and if he did that I was unworthy of it. I wouldn't let him love me…because I didn't believe I was worth loving. I think of those young lovers we were with deep regret. We only ever went in circles."

I pulled back one of my hands, pushing my long brown bangs from my eyes. I could feel my cheeks heat, and I hoped Carlisle was not too hurt by what I said. I hadn't meant to dump on him that way, but he needed to know how I really felt about Edward. All the regret and all the pain, it was a part of me and it needed to be said. I didn't want him to have any delusions about what happened. Five years had given me the gift for introspection, and it had served me well.

Peaking at Carlisle out the corner of my eye, I murmured, "Glad you asked, right?"

"Actually, yes," Carlisle said, smiling gently at me. "You never cease to amaze me."

"What do you mean?" I just bagged on his son and this was his reaction?

"You've just…grown up so much. You were always too mature for your age, Bella, but now you are a person who takes their mistakes and learns for them. Do you know how rare that is? Do you know how many people go through life without any self-awareness at all?" He paused, looking out at the forest in front of us. "Edward was…well, he was a novice when it came to love. I don't think he knew what the boundaries were, or about compromise. He was on his own for far too long. I know that— before you two got together —Esme was worried about him, but I was more worried after you two got together. Not only because of his bloodlust, but also because of the fact that he had no idea what he was doing. I was married to Esme for over eighty years, and I had to learn and fight for our marriage every day, and it still fell apart. I think Edward had unrealistic expectations of love, pure though his motives were."

He was silent for a moment, but then he said, "But Bella, and this is important, I do think Edward loved you. He has one of the truest hearts that I have ever known, and for as long as he knew you, you alone filled it. Perhaps you weren't meant to be; it is impossible to know that for certain. There could have been many things we all did that aggravated the situation. But I never want you to doubt that Edward did truly love you. Young he was, inexperienced that's true, but he loved you deeply nonetheless. Whatever he did, whatever choices he made…they were done out of love for you."

Silence descended over the car as I thought about what Carlisle had said. Edward might have lived for over a hundred years, but he was, in truth, nothing more than a seventeen-year-old boy discovering his first love. And the girl I had been was just as naive and inexperienced. That love changed both of us, I think, but it also transformed the trajectory of my life. I don't know if I would have been nearly as strong and independent had Edward not left me in such a manner. In a weird way…he did me a favor.

Perhaps now it would be easy to look back at the brief time I had with Edward and bear in mind that, short and unfulfilled though it may have been, our time together was a blessing worth remembering.

Looking over at Carlisle, I wondered if his thoughts were following a similar vein as mine. Did he too look back on his lost love and see the flaws in it as much as the virtues? Did he think of the what ifs? Did he wish there was a different course he could take? Were his thoughts better when he remembered the positive memories, or did he try not to think of Esme at all?

I hoped that he was finding peace in my presence, much in the way I found it in his.

"Let's hike," he said, opening the door to car and cutting off my thoughts.

"Yes," I whispered, more to myself than to him. "Let's."

* * *

_CPOV_

My thoughts were like a whirling dervish, and my conscience was worse. Over the past twenty-four hours, Bella had given me much to think about. The previous night, once I left her house, I went straight home and laid down on my bed, playing her words over and over again. Staring up at the eaves of my ceiling, I could hear it all again, exactly as she said it. She had been so impassioned, so full of life that I had felt thrilled to be near her.

I had been so surprised at myself, the way my story just spilled from my lips. I had meant to be pithy and brief, deflecting the memories away from myself, but she did, with those kind and earnest eyes, pluck the secrets from my very soul. I found myself talking, and could not stop. My feelings felt so close to the surface. And I am sure I would have cried had I the capability. It was still incredibly hard for me to talk about what happened to my family, yet I did feel better after having spoken to her.

What was this spell that Bella had over me? Why did I so easily confess my thoughts to her, showing her the bitterness and regret that I had never dared mention to another living soul, immortal or otherwise? Why was I so easily swayed by the shinning understanding in those lovely brown eyes? Though I had known her before, and even had a friendly relationship with her, we seemed now to slip into roles that would have been shocking in their easiness before.

I laid there for several hours, thinking of nothing but the despair on Bella's face when she had confessed how lonely and miserable she had been once we left. Alice, Emmett, and I had all thought we should stay for Bella's sake, but even we had no idea the real force of the devastation our leaving would incur.

So many lives had been ruined because of the action we took that day. My family was destroyed, scattered to the winds. And Bella too, had endured so much because of the choices that we made. There was nothing to do about it now, nothing that could be changed about the past. It had already been lived and the history had already been written, but Bella was right. It needed to be acknowledged. It was so wonderful to be around someone who was able to look to the past with me and say, yes, that really did happen, but it's over now.

Lord, I was lonely. It was easy to admit it now, and it didn't surprise me at all when I had confessed as much to Bella. There was something about her that called to me, and what a relief it was to be able to talk to someone without pretext or artifice. To have one other creature who could really know me, rather than what I pretended to be. She knew I was a vampire, thus with her there was no need to hide. It was an amazing thing really; to be easy with someone. So much of my life was hiding secrets and covering my tracks. None of that was necessary with Bella.

After hours of reflection, it became nearly too much for me. Near three in the morning, two hours before I had to be at work, I slipped from the house and ran into the forest. The scenery rushed by me in a riot of color as I made my way through the tree-choked woodland. The smell of pine and ash filled my senses as I surrendered to the hunt. I raced along, my keen senses divining a herd of deer in the area. They were resting by a stream, having fed earlier. As I approached I could hear that calm beatings of their hearts, not knowing the dangerous creature that was approaching.

I made quick work of two of the bucks, staying far away from the does and fawns. After I was sated, I turned and saw the herd had fled. Taking unneeded deep breaths, I turned and began to walk back to my house. The forest was still now, all night birds and animals realizing a predator was among them. There is a delicate balance among all creatures that humans ignore, but once I was made a vampire I suddenly became aware of my primal senses in a way that I had never been before. It is easy to see the connection of all living things when you can hear the very pulse of their hearts.

The moon guided my way, casting enough light on the ground in front of me that I would have been able to see even without my enhanced senses. Soon, I found myself back at my house and I prepared for work. The morning passed slowly, and eventually it was time to leave for my shift.

I drove into town, slightly surprised at the eagerness I felt. It was very easy to convince myself that the only reason I felt this way was because with Bella there were no masks, but it was unexpected nonetheless. I was no green boy that need feel frightened in the presence of a woman. I had been married for the better part of a century, and had spent enough time with Alice and Rosalie to follow the female mind easily. But it was different with Bella. She, unlike the women of my family, could not be broken down into parts. Her mind was her own, as complicated as it was lovely. But beyond that, her heart was even more beautiful. The compassion she had shown me the previous night, the way she had been so kind and forgiving…they made me feel warm, as if there was once again blood flowing through my veins.

How could I even describe her compassion? She was not so unmovable and intractable as most people I had known were. In her, I saw endless sympathy and kindness. She _wanted_ to give herself to others; it was her desire to be helpful. Perhaps this was why she had never been afraid of us, never thought less of my family for our monstrous heritage. In the same way that she would never reject a person for their skin color or sexual orientation, she did not reject us for our dietary issues. To her, it was laughable that she would she us as anything but perfection personified. What's more, she wanted to be one of us.

In a way, I was almost glad that she never had done. Disregarding the fact that my family might have been whole had she become a vampire that long ago day in the ballet studio, it might be considered the greatest of crimes to take Bella's humanity from her. She was so rare. Not many people could be confronted with their perfect and beautiful face in the mirror every morning and find themselves merely adequate. Not many people could find sympathy for creatures of darkness, even after becoming a victim of one of them. Not many people could live the life she had and then pretend to forget, put on a brave face, and go on with their lives and thrive. She was, by all accounts and reckonings, splendid.

She could make me, one so cold and dead, feel alive and warm in her company. Yes, she was the best of humans and the world would be a sadder place without her in it. She deserved everything the world had to offer, including the ability to walk into the sunlight unmolested.

Pulling into the hospital parking lot, I let myself out of the car and went into work. Despite my best efforts, Bella was never far from my thoughts that morning and neither, much to my dismay, was my former family. Though I still had relationships with Jasper and Alice, the state of things with Emmett, Rosalie, Esme, and even Edward, troubled me. But why was I thinking of them now? I had all but purged them from my mind the last couple of years, trying so hard to forget that we all had ever dared to call ourselves a family. Now we were just a broken coven.

When it was time to take my break and to meet Bella, I found myself jogging—carefully remaining at human pace—to the diner. What was this eagerness that rose up in me?

The bell jingled merrily as I opened the door, announcing my presence. I walked over to the counter, taking off my jacket and pushing my sleeves up in what I thought to be a human gesture, and then I leaned on the counter for good measure. "Morning," I said to Linda, giving her a kind smile.

"Morning, honey," Linda said, grinning widely at me. "Coffee?"

"Please," I replied. Then, thinking of Bella, I changed my mind. "Actually two."

"Oh, who for?" Linda asked, curiosity and disappointment seeping out of every pore. "Hot date?"

I tried to give a confident laugh, but it came out sounding uneasy. "Uh, no. I discovered yesterday that an old friend of mine lives here in town. She's meeting me here in a moment."

Linda seemed shocked. "Who?"

"Bella Swan," I said calmly.

"No kidding," Linda said, shocked. "Our little Isabella? Was she your sweetheart or something?"

"No," I said, laughing a little. "She dated my so…brother."

"I see," Linda said, thoughtfully. Then she grinned, leaning forward. "Was she a cutie back then, like I think she was?"

I smiled. "Oh, yes. But terribly clumsy." We both laughed, and I am sure she was as hard-pressed as I am now to imagine that Bella, the graceful beauty, had ever been anything but completely elegant.

Linda turned from me then and exclaimed, "Here she is!"

Bella made her way over to me, and I was relieved to see her smiling face. There was no trace of anxiety, no nerves from the way we had left things the night before. I allowed myself an inward sigh of relief. Perhaps Bella was like me and truly delighted in having a friend here in Calais that knew everything about them. I smiled, following the conversation between Bella and Linda, and even interjecting now and then, but my mind was really on Bella.

I traced her form with my eyes, delighting in the changes to her. How different she seemed now, how much more comfortable in her skin. She had turned into a ravishing beauty, but in more ways than one. I admired her, deeply. I wanted to be near her. I wanted her to smile at me again, to favor me with that curve of her pinkened lips and happy grin.

What I didn't know was why. Why did she affect me like this? I felt so warm and glad in her presence, as if all the world had fallen away and my existence made sense at last. Was it new, or had it always been there? Had I always felt so comforted by the sound of her heart and the rush of her blood? Though I was no longer tempted by the thought of the taste of blood, I could still smell and hear it. And Bella's…hers affected me differently than anyone else's. It wasn't that I craved it, quite the contrary; rather I was comforted by it. It was a sound that I felt at ease by, like music to me, and the smell was something that was so soothing, like home and rest.

After a little while, Bella and I left the diner and began walking towards the school she worked at. We chatted about my old car for a moment when I was suddenly seized with an impulse I could not escape from. "What are you doing after work?"

"Umm, correcting spelling tests." She said, smiling wryly. "But considering, they are first graders, it shouldn't take long. What did you have in mind?"

"I get off at three," I said slowly, not wanting to seem too presumptuous. "I can meet you at your house around four again. Would you take a walk with me then? There is a place I'd like to show you."

"All right," she said, causing relief to spread through me. We were in front of the hospital, so I smiled at her and returned to my job. I knew exactly where I was going to take her. There was a lovely bit of wilderness that overlooked the St. Croix River. The view was nearly sacred in its magnificence, and I had been shocked when I stumbled upon it while hunting that first month I was here. It had been enough for me to lose the scent of my prey, willing to just stand there motionless for hours, watching the majestic sight before me. I now had the feeling that I should share it with Bella. Something told me to bring her there.

The rest of the day passed quickly and before I knew it I was knocking on Bella's door. I had gone home briefly to change, but I was only thinking of seeing her again. And when she opened the door, my eagerness turned to relief. "Well," I said, full of excitement, "are you ready to go?"

In the car, on the way there, more words passed between us. We spoke of Edward, their love, and the past. There was little that we didn't speak of. But it wasn't the conversation that would stay with me hours and days later, nor even the warmth of her company which brightened my heart and made me feel absurdly glad to be near her.

No, the thing that would stay with me, teasing me at the oddest of times, was the feeling of her hot hand in mine. The sensation it provided, and the indescribable feeling that it was just where it belonged. It didn't feel awkward or wrong. It wasn't sexual or friendly, it was just right. The feeling was one that would haunt my thoughts for a long time, I was sure of it.

It was as if her hand had always been meant to hold my own.

* * *

_The __line:__ "__To __have__ one __other __creature __who__ could __really __know__ me, __rather __than__ what __I__ pretended __to __be__" __is __lifted __directly __from __New __Moon,__ on __page __40._

_If__ anyone __is __curious, __the__ title __from__ this __story __comes __from __two __places, __and __has __two __meanings. __The __first __is __A __Fine __Frenzy__'__s __song__ "__Near__ to __You.__" __Definitely __worth __giving __a __listening __to __as __it__ follows __the __plot __of __this__ story __closely. __The __second __is__ the__ quote __from __Jane__ Eyre__ by__ Charlotte __Brontë __that__ I__ have __used __as __the __epigraph __at __the __top __of __this __chapter. __The__ song __is__ about__ the __significance __of __being__ with __a__ new __love __after __a __devastating__ loss __and __how __it __takes __a __while __to __let __love __in __again. __The __Brontë __quote__ is __about __the __idea __of __two __souls __being __bound __inextricably __to __each __other __by __something__ greater __than __love, __and __the__ inability __to __be __apart._

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	5. Part I: Of The Divine and Us

"_I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here! This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now. The reason why we loved the old Narnia is that it sometimes looked a little like this."_

—_The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis_

* * *

_Chapter Five – Of The Divine and Us_

_BPOV_

The dirt of the path crunched in a satisfying manner under the heels of my heavy boots as we hiked up the path. Carlisle, being the gentleman that he was, had offered to carry me, but I had wanted to walk on my own. If it became necessary I would allow it, but much of the pleasure I received from hiking was the effort I had to expend to get to the various summits. Each breath in, every step, was one more piece of my accomplishments. They were just one more minute that I lived and thrived. For so long, my life was one brush with death to another. I could appreciate the small things about everyday living now. Breathing was just one of the many gifts of existence.

Carlisle was a steady and comforting presence as he hiked by my side. Of all the Cullens that I could have run into, I was glad it was him. I had never felt anything from Carlisle except pure compassion and love. The feelings I felt for him—trust, respect, and admiration—were not complicated by negative emotions and pain. Even Alice provoked some feelings of hurt and regret, but with Carlisle…well, I had never felt anything but totally safe by his side. Looking over at the smooth planes of his face, I smiled to myself. He was a complete enigma to me. I had no idea what he could possibly be thinking. I wondered if it irked Carlisle to walk at such a slow pace, but if it did, he never said anything.

We had settled into a companionable silence as we walked; the heavy weight of our previous conversations foremost in my mind. It was gratifying that Carlisle could listen to my feelings and accept them, whether he agreed with them or not. Talking to him was so easy. I never had to struggle for thoughts, or worry about the meanings of my words like I always did with Edward. Thinking back now, I realized this had always been the case. I never had worried when I spoke with Carlisle, on the contrary—I often tried to prolong our interactions just to keep talking to him.

He was a complicated man. There were so many sides to him, so many facets that I wanted and yearned to discover. He was a man of deep compassion, always willing to give to others, to help. He was also a man of deep faith. He had lived on this earth for nearly four hundred years, through wars, fires, and famines, and yet he still believed in a divine creator and an afterlife. And then there was his love of learning. I had often seen him with a book in hand, his brow furrowed in an oddly human expression. There was also his perseverance. Here was a man who had lost everything, more than once, and he still was able to smile and be concerned for my feelings, my life. He lost his father, and recently his family, and yet he hadn't lost that part of him that made him, him.

I envied him that. I'd like to think that I wouldn't lose myself because of a guy again—the way I had with Edward—but the truth is that I didn't know. It was hard for me to lose people, and even harder for me to accept the curveballs that life often threw my way. I hadn't handled Edward's departure well at all, nor my mom's remarriage. I literally ran away both times, rather than deal with my feelings and embrace that selfish part of myself that wanted to feel, heal, and deal.

Carlisle though…he was amazing. His three hundred and sixty-seven years were not misspent. Despite his suspended animation, he grew more, changed more, and loved more than any other person I had ever met. His beauty might be awe-inspiring, but it was the person behind the movie star good looks that I yearned to be close to. I told myself that I only thought of him as a friend, but that didn't stop me from wanting to know everything I could about him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his angelic voice cutting into my thoughts.

"Yes," I said, offering him a timid smile. "Just thinking. Hiking was something I used for self-reflection in college."

He smiled in return. Damn, he had a beautiful smile. "I know what you mean. There is nothing I love more than to run through the forest, alone with my thoughts. It's like everything slows down. All the things you are thinking of settle into the back recesses of you mind and you just find…"

"Clarity," I said, knowing exactly what he was talking about.

"Yes, clarity," he nodded. His face grew pensive, and he paused before speaking. "When I lived in London, I often would go to church for that kind of feeling. My father was a vicar of a small church, St. Olave's, but we lived not far from St. Paul's. Well, relatively, anyway. My father had a friend he had been in seminary with who belonged to the clergy at the Cathedral proper, and I used to be sent with messages or letters for him. It was very different in those days from the modern Christopher Wren design. It was a true cathedral then, much like Westminster Abbey and Notre Dame. The spire had been destroyed by lightening some hundred years before my birth, and the exterior and the inside were decaying," Carlisle's face was thoughtful in the twilight. He suddenly seemed much older than usual to me, like the stories he loved to tell. "But I can remember standing in the nave, and looking up into the heights of the cathedral, and feeling total clarity."

He was so lost in his memories that I dared not say a word. On the contrary, I wanted him to keep talking. I _needed_ him to keep talking.

"That was the origins of my faith, I suppose." He grinned ruefully, almost to himself. "It was hard to escape in those days. Religion was just so much a part of everyday living. I attended daily services, with weekly communion, and the Book of Common Prayer seemed to dominate my life. I never went to sleep, ate, or woke without praying for guidance, mercy, or blessings. Yet, in all that ritual I rarely found solace. It was in the nave of Old St. Paul's that I found it, and later in the country late at night under the heavens. That was where I saw God, not in the men of the cloth or in their institutions." He smiled at me then, seeming to remember I was there. "I have seen so much change. So many rebirths of faith and scripture, it is hard to put much stock in them. Thus, I have learned to see my faith in places like this."

I smiled tentatively at him. "I'm jealous of you, in a way. I've never had that, not really. Charlie is a Lutheran, though he spends Sunday's fishing, and, last I heard, Renee is experimenting in New Age healing crystals and herbs. She dabbles a lot." I laughed, rather ruefully. "We aren't the most religious."

Carlisle smiled slightly, his eyes kind. "We all seek out the divine in different ways, Bella. Your mother seems to know that she need something _more,_so she seeks it. Charlie obviously finds it when communing with nature…like you."

"What? Me?" I asked flabbergasted. Was he mental? "You think I like the forest and hiking because of God?"

"You said it yourself," Carlisle said, his voice filled with knowledge. "You find clarity out here. What do you think religion is if not that? It is the search for clarity, Bella. The quest to communicate with the divine. We are all, human or vampire, searching for the origins and the purpose of our existence. You find peace and answers in nature and silence; I find my answers in God. The two are not as different as you would like to believe."

I said nothing; I had no response for that. How do you tell someone with such perfect faith that I thought the idea of an afterlife to be impossible? I fervently wished I was wrong. Once I had believed. When I wanted such a fate for Edward it had been easy to believe. And someone so good and pure like Carlisle deserved to have his faith and endurance rewarded with such a place, but I could not believe in it for myself. But perhaps that was not required. "Maybe," I conceded. "But if this is my faith, as you say, it is nothing like your own. Yours is wrapped around higher ideas and beliefs, along with a deity. That is a far cry from my embrace of nature."

Carlisle simply smiled. "I often find my faith troubled, and absent when I need it. But I never doubt that it is there, guiding me on."

Nodding, I looked down at the ground as I maneuvered around a sharp rock. I could accept that, much in the same way he could accept me. Though speaking of religion made me slightly uncomfortable, Carlisle always seemed to do it in a way that put me at ease. It struck me then that the last conversation I had ever had with him was, again, about religion, about souls. I guess some things really do come full circle.

Changing the subject, I said, "Was life very different back then? When you were alive, I mean."

Carlisle nodded. "We lived in London, my father and I, and it was often hard to get out of the city. My mother died giving birth to me, so it was just he and I for a long time. We were a small family. The two of us and our maid, Bessie. She was a mother-like figure to me, and a big sister as well." He smiled, as if he was reliving the memories as he told them to me. "It was hard to really relate to her in some ways, though. I had outstripped her in education by my fifth birthday; she couldn't read, write, or do large sums. There was a large distinction between the classes back then, and education was the key. Sometimes, I used to sit in the scullery while she was washing the linens and I would read to her. Mostly from the Bible, as books were scarce back then and the religious books we owned were far over her head, but she didn't mind. She loved to hear the stories; David and Goliath, Noah and the Ark, Moses and the Exodus…it didn't matter. She died of consumption when I was around twenty. Tuberculosis," he clarified for me, though I knew what consumption was.

I felt a flash of pity for him. He lost the woman he regarded as a mother and then his father three years later. That sucked in the most unbelievable way. I could understand, for the first time, why it was so horrifying for him to awaken and realize he was a vampire.

He smiled faintly, if a bit sadly. "Family life wasn't so different back then. But daily life? Yes, that was very different. When I was born, we were in the midst of the First Civil War between the Parliamentarians and the Royalists. King Charles the First was an unpopular monarch. I lived through the Second Civil War as well, which of course ended with the King losing his head. My father actually went to the execution."

"You're kidding me," I said, flabbergasted. I knew from my reading that the common people attended executions for entertainment, but it was shocking to hear it confirmed by an actually survivor of the period.

"No," Carlisle said. "He wouldn't let me go though. I remember, my father hated the king. He was loyal to the crown, and to the monarchy, but he had no love for Charles the First. He called him 'the tyrant' and 'the papist' when we were in private. But that day, when he came home from the execution, he went to the church and stayed the entire day at prayer. He didn't get up from off his knees until well after dark." His eyes were rather unseeing, staring ahead at vacancy. I wondered if all his memories and feelings of his father were mixed ones. "Anyway, after that there was the Third Civil War which brought in the Commonwealth. I actually had a cousin who died at Worcester, where Cromwell prevailed. His name was Robin; I called him Robbie. He was a Roundhead, which was a supporter of the Parliamentarians." His words were whispered, almost like an aside. It was so weird to hear him speak of the family he had left behind, the one before the Cullens.

"And the Commonwealth was different?" I asked, sidestepping a bit of brush.

"Yes, very," Carlisle said. "Theatre and gambling were banned, along with religious holidays like Christmas and Easter. Clothing was to be simple, colorless, and plain. My father thrived in that environment, but I found it rather stifling. The monarchy was only restored a few years before I was changed."

I glanced over at him from beneath my lashes. I was in awe of him. He was a living, breathing—without the _actual _living or breathing—example of history, and I wanted to know everything he could tell me. But before I could ask, he grinned and said, "We're here."

"Where?" I asked, looking around in confusion. The trail seemed to end at a cliff-face of rocks. I saw no way to continue on. This couldn't be it, could it? If so, what a letdown!

"This way," Carlisle said, beckoning me after him. Following him, we eased between the brush and the rocks, following a little trail I never would have seen in the fading light had he not been guiding me. We walked downward for a little ways as I made sure each step was met with a firm foothold. Carlisle reached back, taking my hand and leading me over some of the more troublesome boulders. My heart was racing, but I was sure that it was because of the exertion. Quite sure. It certainly had nothing to do with the feeling of his marble fingers clasped around mine, or the way his guiding hand made me believe myself to be impossibly safe. I felt as though no harm could ever come to me, not while I was with him.

And yet, he was a vampire. The irony did not escape me.

The unsteady walk felt endless and I was constantly ducking to avoid branches and low-hanging boughs. I was tired, but continued on anyway. Then, finally, Carlisle moved aside a heavy branch, dropped my hand, and suddenly my view was clear.

I was speechless.

The breathtaking beauty of what I saw was impossible to fully appreciate, and even if I spoke of it for years I could not have done it justice. The little path had led to a long, flat cliff that overlooked the valley. We had to be hundreds of feet high, yet I had not even noticed the steepness of the climb. I had been too lost to Carlisle's words. The shock of the height was surprising, but below, that was where the true beauty lay.

Stretching before our still forms, in all its glory, was the St. Croix River. It twisted and turned like a flowing serpent, stretching for miles before us. Distantly, I could hear the rush and flow of the water, but that was secondary to the beating of my own heart. The forests looked endless from where we were. It was as if civilization had been swallowed by green trees and endless water.

Looking down at the river, I felt so small and so large—all at the same time. I was nothing to its distance, its majestic beauty, but at the same time it almost felt like that river was flowing for me alone. As if, simply by being so high, I was the only one who could see its vastness. Everything in my mind stopped, and I found the clarity that my hikes often provided, but there was something else as well.

I felt renewed.

It was as if all my cares and worries had fallen away, and now seemed unimportant. My problems were nothing to the scope of the world, to the endless beauty of that river. I was a mere speck in the scope of creation, nothing larger than a bug or a dandelion. I was but a small part of a greater collective; but at that moment, my heart had never felt so full.

In the fading light, I watched as a heron lifted up into the sky, stretching its long wings. Its white and grey feathers looked almost pink in the twilight as the sun descended in the west. The bird let out a cry, and I felt my heart soar along with it. It circled once or twice, and then flew away. I found myself wishing for wings of my own for that brief moment, so that I might take to the sky and follow the heron as it headed back towards the sea.

It was one of the most wonderful sights I had ever seen, happening at one of the most breathtaking moments of my life.

I felt, rather than heard, Carlisle come up next to me. He took my hand in one of his cool ones; it almost felt as if he was restoring them to their natural position. Like hands, our hands in particular, were meant to be held. We stood together there, one with the view, in gentle solemnity for a long while. I am sure that he could hear my heart pounding in my chest, my feelings to great to control it. He didn't mention it, but a stray thought crossed my mind, and I wondered for a brief moment if, had his own heart been beating, his would be pounding like my own.

When Carlisle finally spoke, his voice was deep with emotion. "If you ever wondered why I believe in God…here is your answer."

We might never agree on theology, religion, or God. But, in that moment, I had no trouble believing in the divine.

Savoring the feeling of our fingers locked together, I whispered, "Thank you for sharing this with me."

"You're welcome," Carlisle whispered back. Those simple words I could feel in the depths of my heart.

We stood like that for a long time, our hands clasped as we watched the sun set in the western sky and dip low beyond the reach of the horizon.

I knew, with no doubt in my mind, that that sight—that feeling—would stay with me for the rest of my life, be it long or short. That place was near sacred to me, and I knew that I would want to go there again and again. I could see myself returning, long after I had moved away and lived my life, simply to gaze upon that sight once more.

And, for one selfish moment, I wished that Carlisle would be there with me, years from now, when I saw it again.

* * *

_CPOV_

The daylight was rapidly fading. The sun had fled, and the pink and orange sky would soon be replaced by darkness. I could hear the nocturnal animals slowly begin to stir, waking to the world once more. The mosquitoes from the river buzzed around in the dim light, using what little strength they had left to find one last meal. I saw a small one land on Bella's exposed hand, the one not holding my own. I watched, transfixed, as it fed on her. I could smell the tangy, copper scent of her blood in the air, though had I not been looking directly at the little bug, I doubt I would have even noticed it. I had always found it interesting that there are so many different types of animals and insects that feed on blood. Leeches, fleas, lampreys, bats, and even some butterflies; they all lived off of the same thing as me and my brethren. It was rather wondrous that, when faced with this very reality, humans could still deny our existence.

With my hand still clutching tightly to Bella's, I led her back to the little trail that edged along the rock face. We moved mostly in silence until, after a long while, we were back on the main trail again.

"Well," I said, "shall we walk, or would you like me to carry you?"

"Let's walk," Bella replied, her face still full of awe and appreciation for the view we had left behind.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "This can be a treacherous walk down. I'd hate for you to hurt yourself."

"I'll be fine," Bella said, setting her jaw with determination. "I've hiked for years, and plenty of times at night."

"All right," I said dubiously. "If you're sure."

"I am," Bella replied.

I went ahead, wanting to show Bella where to step. We made our way in silence for a while, carefully putting one foot in front of the other on our way down. My thoughts drifted to Bella's face as she had seen the view. When I had found it myself, I was struck by the sight. The swirl of colors in the river below, framed by the endless copse of small trees and their towering brothers that stretched to the end of the horizon and beyond; the sight played with my senses, bringing a sharp reminder of England and a trip I once took to the Lake District. Seeing a familiar sight, a world way, had struck me with its perfection and beauty. But to Bella, it seemed even more intense. I wonder if she was aware of how still she had become. In the dim light, I could almost fool myself into believing that she was a vampire. Her pale skin marked her as one of my kind, and her absolute stillness added to the illusion. The expression on her face though, that was what would stay with me. It was awe, mixed with pleasure and ecstasy.

She had often looked at Edward that way.

A muffled sound behind me tore me from my less than pleasant thoughts. Bella cleared her throat. "Tell me about when you swam to France."

I chuckled. "Haven't you heard enough stories from me today?"

"Not nearly enough," Bella replied, and I could hear the hint of a smile in her voice. "I love hearing about the past, _your_ past. I'd love to hear anything you wish to tell me."

"Fine," I said. "But once I do, you have to tell me one of your stories in return."

I could hear Bella huff behind me. "Why on earth would you want that? I have only lived for twenty-three years. What's that to three hundred and sixty-seven?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something," I drawled.

"Fine," she grumbled.

"Okay, France," I said. "Well, I had stayed in England for about forty years after my change. Most of that time was spent in the country, building up my resistance to people and blood. My control was nothing to what it is now, and I lived a fairly nomadic existence then. It wasn't until I had made it to Europe that I tried to learn as much as I could and studied theology, languages, and eventually medicine. In England, I stayed away from humans as much as I could, and after the years passed I adjusted. It was rather abnormal, I think, considering the vampires I made were still tempted by blood after a hundred years, let alone forty. I have never heard of another vampire that was so easy around humans so quickly. It could be due to the fact that I have never tasted human blood," I mused. "Well, after a while, questions were starting to arise about my age and I soon learned the first lesson in being a vampire."

"And what's that?" Bella asked.

I looked back, seeing her face clearly despite the dimming light. She really was that interested in my past, I realized. Her sincerity and fascination was written in every expression she had. Smiling sadly, I said, "Loneliness. That's the first lesson in being a vampire. We are always set apart, always on the periphery. Discretion is essential and, to achieve it, we must always stay away from those who might have the means and opportunity to discover us." I turned away from her sympathetic face and began to walk again with Bella following.

"That seems so wrong," Bella said. "It's not fair that vampires have to hide themselves."

"No," I said, disagreeing. "Most vampires _are_ a threat to people. It is better that they stay apart."

"But you're not like that," Bella said, her tone betraying her frustration. "It's simply not right that you have to keep yourself from making friends and acquaintances to protect your secrets."

I smiled, though she could not see. Her heart was so large that she simply couldn't fathom a world in which I didn't receive equal treatment. It was rather heartening to realize that I meant so much to her. Or my family, anyway.

"Well, that is just the way it is, and most people, other than you, are naturally afraid of us. Though it is less with me, mostly because I, of all the vampires I know, interact the most with humans," I stated, before continuing with my story. "So, anyway, I decided that I wanted to continue my studies that were begun in seminary, but that could no longer be done in England, the land of my birth. France seemed like the best option to me, so I made my way to Dover and swam across to Calais. Another Calais," I said, wryly.

"Yes, but why swim?" Bella asked. "There were boats and ships in those days. Why travel the one way that insured you wouldn't be able to take anything with you?"

I smiled, pleased with her logical reasoning skills. "Well, I had faked my own death actually. Everything I owed, save the money in my purse, was left behind."

"What about your father's cross?" she asked. "The one he carved. Didn't you want to take that with you?"

"You do pay attention, don't you?" I asked, grinning to myself. "I actually didn't acquire the cross until nearly a hundred years later, after I had left the Volturi. Before making my way to America, I briefly returned to England. For nostalgia's sake, I went back to the church my father was a pastor at. It was gone, replaced by a bigger, more modern church." My mind traveled back to that day, in 1801, when I had stood outside what was once my home and living. Seeing the newer church in place of ours was like a blow to my heart. I was devastated. While my memories of my father were often less than pleasant, that church, and the vicarage behind it, had been my home. "Out of curiosity, I went inside the new church and what should be behind the altar?"

"Your father's cross?" she guessed.

"My father's cross," I confirmed. "I found the vicar and paid him a huge donation, more than he would make in a year's worth of collections, and simply requested that I receive the cross in return. He happily complied, and I took it with me to America."

"That's nice," she said with a happy sigh. "Now, back to swimming the Channel—" Her words were cut off by a screech as I turned to see that she had fallen on her rear end. She was sitting on the ground, her legs spread in different directions, hands flat on the trail. She looked totally shocked by it, looking up at me with unblinking eyes. "I fell," she declared, shocked.

"I can see that," I said, masking both the grin that was threatening to spread across my face, and the urge to declare that I had been right about her walking in the dark. "Are you injured?"

"My ankle," she said.

I crouched down. "Right or left?"

"Right," she stated. "I can't believe I fell!"

I quickly lowered her sock and lifted her jeans, probing at the bones and the muscles under the skin of her ankle. Then, I gently rotated her foot in careful circles, noting when discomfort flashed across her face. Gently setting her right foot down, I said, "It's not broken or sprained, just twisted. You should be tender tomorrow, but fine the day after."

"Well, thank goodness for small favors," Bella muttered.

I could contain my laughter no longer. "Oh, Bella," I said, laughing with mirth. "It is so nice to see some old part of you remained."

"Wait just a minute! I am not clumsy anymore!" she objected. "This is totally all your fault!"

"My fault?" I asked, raising an eyebrow the way I had once seen Bella do. "Care to explain that to me?"

"Yes! I have been free of my clumsiness and gracelessness for nearly three years now, but get me within ten feet of a Cullen and BAM! On my butt. Hence, clearly all your fault." She then stuck her tongue out at me.

I grinned at her. "Mature."

"Bite me."

"Is that an invitation?" I asked, laughing.

"Ugh! Stupid vampires and their stupid witty comebacks!" she grumbled. She then glared up at me. "Must you be so utterly perfect?"

"Yes," I said simply. "I must."

She grumbled.

"I was going to help you up and carry you to the car," I said idly, as if I was contemplating not doing it any longer, "but if you prefer, I can leave you there to wait for the next hiker or stray bear to cross your path."

She sighed, utterly beleaguered. "All right, all right." She then turned her doe eyes up to me. "If you please?"

Grinning at my victory, I gently lifted her into my arms. She wrapped her own around my neck and turned her head so that she might see where I was walking. At an annoyingly human pace, I resumed my trek down the trail as I carried her bridal-style, whistling under my breath.

"Oh, would you stop that?" she asked peevishly.

"Why? Is it bothering you?" I asked, chortling a bit.

"You know it is," she grumbled.

"Temper, temper, Bella. One would think you blame me for your little misadventure."

"Yes, one would," Bella replied, mimicking my voice.

I simply grinned. "You know, you would think that someone should have warned you about walking in the dark."

"Did you hear something?" Bella asked. "I could have sworn I heard a peacock calling."

I laughed in earnest then. "Please don't ever change, Bella."

She turned to look at me and suddenly my mirth was gone and all I could think of was the proximity of our faces. She loosed one of her hands from behind my neck and gently cupped my marble jaw with it. I didn't dare to breathe as she traced the line of my cheek and jaw bones. I was too afraid that I would take in her scent and do something foolish. Her careful exploration continued on for several endless moments until she finally grinned and said, "I won't change if you don't."

I somehow calmed my conflicting emotions and said, "Now that I can promise."

She smiled happily at me and I suddenly had an urge. An urge to kiss her. I wondered what her lips would feel like against mine. Was it really so different to kiss a human? Was she as soft and yielding as I imagined she would be? Would her heart beat a fast and passionate tattoo as her mouth yielded to mine? I could see the moment over and over in my head; how it would go, what I would do. But, as much as I wished it weren't so, I knew that she would allow me to kiss her and then, when I pulled away, there would be sadness and regret in her eyes.

Something I couldn't bear to see from her.

No, I couldn't give in to such an urge. Bella and I were friends. And I didn't want to kiss her, I told myself, not really. It was just the closeness and the proximity. Being near her, like this with her in my arms, was wreaking havoc with my mind. Nothing more.

"Close your eyes," I softly commanded.

I saw her swallow and her eyes fluttered shut. Her heart suddenly sped up and I wondered if she had seen my desires on my face. Was she afraid of me now? Was that why she was shivering and her blood rushing so quickly? I cursed myself inaudibly, thinking I had frightened her. That was the last thing I wanted. "Hold on tight," I commanded.

She easily complied, her face still turned up towards mine. Without much effort, I raced down the path, trees passing by at an easy speed. I wasn't even trying to move fast, yet I knew that if Bella were to open her eyes she would shriek with fright. After a few moments, we reached the parking lot and I unlocked the car. Bella seemed to realize we had stopped, for she opened her eyes and smiled at me. I breathed in a thankful breath. I must have imagined it before. There was no fear in her eyes. But I swore I could see something else in them. Was it disappointment? Impossible.

I put her into the passenger seat, careful of her foot. Within a few minutes, we were on the road and heading back the way we came. We were silent as we drove, but it did not seem tense. Stealing a glance at Bella, I was amazed to see a happy smile lighting her face.

"Why do you smile?" I asked before I could stop myself.

She turned her face towards mine and grinned at me. "Because I am happy. Today was amazing. Thank you for showing it to me."

I was taken aback. That smile was for me? "You're welcome. I am glad you liked it." I pulled the car into her driveway and turned off the ignition. Grinning, I said, "Wait here."

She grumbled as I got out of the car. I could have sworn I heard something about 'stupid, shiny Audi owners' but I could be wrong. Quickly, I sped to her side and gently lifted her out of the car. Once again, she was safe and secure in my arms. I could get used to the feeling. She was so incredibly light and I felt easy holding her. Bella fished her key out of her pocket, handing it to me. After unlocking her door and carrying her inside, I placed Bella on the couch, elevating her ankle by putting a pillow underneath it.

"I'll get some ice," I said, already walking towards the kitchen. Quickly filling a plastic bag, I returned to where she was sitting. Bella had rolled up the cuff of her jeans and was toeing off her boot as I returned. After pulling down her sock and placing it with her boot, I put the ice on her exposed ankle.

Bella hissed as the ice went on, causing me to grin. Looking down at her ankle for swelling, I suppressed a smile at the realization that Bella had blood red toenails. She had never struck me as the type of woman to paint her nails and it was fascinating to be proven wrong. Breathing in, I savored the scent of her natural perfume. The roses in it reminded me of a rose bush I had once come across in the Jardin des Tuileries in Paris. I wondered if she had any idea just how distracting she was proving to be for me. Could she possibly imagine how just being around her proved to be so confusing and exciting, all at the same time?

I needed to leave.

"Well, I better go," I said, rising from the couch. "I have a lot of paperwork that needs to be completed before my shift tomorrow, plus I was hoping to get some work done on the downstairs bathroom tonight."

"Oh," Bella said. Was that disappointment on her face? "Will I see you tomorrow?"

Her voice was so hopeful that I couldn't bear to say no. Control; that was all I needed. We could be friends, nothing more. "Of course you will. How about you drive to school tomorrow, and I will stop by Dottie's for you and get your food?"

"Would you?" Bella asked with a happy smile. "Thanks."

"It's nothing," I replied, waving away her compliment. "Would you like me to get you anything before I go?"

"My book," she replied. "The one on my bedside table."

I swallowed, nodding. As quickly as I could, I walked into her bedroom, avoiding looking at anything personal. Claiming the book off the side table, I quickly left the room and didn't even glance at the title until I was out of the room._ Jane __Eyre_. Tracing the title on the well-worn cover with my thumb, I shook my head in bemusement. When I came to stand beside Bella, I handed her the book with a teasing smile on my face. "Are you sure you want to read this one? It's awfully depressing."

"It is not," Bella protested. "It is one of the most beautiful romances ever written."

"Really?" I queried. "It is about a man who locks his first wife in the attic, and then sets out to seduce and create a bigamous union with his illegitimate daughter's governess."

"That's not his fault," Bella declared hotly, a flush spreading across her face. "He tries to stay away from her; he really does. But neither Rochester nor Jane can fight what they feel. They were slaves to their own hearts. We all are."

A beat passed between us. In the low light of the room, her fluttering eyelashes created shadows on her skin and augmented the redness of her cheeks. Shaking myself, I tried to calmly say, "Well, Jane was a fool then. She had a perfectly respectable offer of marriage later from St. John and she let it slip away."

"St. John wasn't the one for her. He could never love her the way she wanted," Bella countered. "He only wanted to make her his wife so that he could control her. He was focused on his needs, his wants. He wanted to be a missionary, so she must be one as well. That's not real love. Rochester wanted her, not some imagined version of her. He saw all her faults, but it didn't matter, not to him. Even at the end, when he has lost his sight, he can still see Jane clearly. That's true love."

I smiled finally. "I agree. It's one of my favorite books as well, I was only teasing you."

Bella's jaw dropped, but then she giggled. "I should have known."

I laughed in return. "I better go."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," I confirmed. "Goodnight Bella."

"Goodnight, Carlisle," Bella said.

Without even thinking about why or the consequences, I leaned over and kissed her temple. Being that close to her was intoxicating. I had the sudden urge to lift a lock of her hair to my nose and inhale. But I couldn't, it was simply too dangerous. We were just friends, nothing more. I didn't want anything more. I wouldn't _let_ myself want anything more.

Without a further word, I left her and went outside, returning to the night. Where I was meant to be. My resolve simply could not waver. I didn't belong to her world, and she didn't belong to mine. We were friends and, at a time in my life when I was alone, that was something to be savored.

As I drove away, I smiled wryly to myself. For the first time, I certainly understood what Edward had gone through. _Edward_. The thought of his name was like a punch to my gut. I couldn't do this because of Edward! What was I thinking? Even if we were distant now, that didn't mean I loved him any less. He was a member of my family and had a firm place in my heart. I couldn't touch Bella; it would kill him. He might have pushed her away, but he still loved her. I was sure of it.

I wouldn't do this to him. I simply couldn't. Bella and I were friends, nothing more, I insisted again to myself. That was how it was, and that was how it would stay. I could be satisfied with all the friendship she could give, and nothing beyond that.

But, in the depths of my heart, where such impossible dreams always reside, I had a feeling I had no choice in the matter. Was I not too a slave to my own heart?

* * *

_Couple of quick notes. One, I was asked why Charlie didn't see that Carlisle hadn't aged when he visited. Charlie didn't notice because Carlisle was really only there for a brief while (maybe five minutes at most), and wasn't thinking about it. Much of the Cullens existence and ability to blend in depends, in my opinion, on the fact that people don't want to know that there are monsters and eternal creatures among them. Charlie didn't want to see Carlisle as anything other than a man—a man he once really respected—so he didn't._

_Two, someone commented that they were getting Edward/Esme vibes. No, just no. That is too weird for me to contemplate. They both might get ships later, but right now…just no. _

_Three, someone commented that they were sad that the Cullens were all broken up. Yes, that is the case…for now. I loved the other Cullens too, and they WILL make an appearance. _

_Four and lastly, I hope no one was offended by the short religious discussion. I am by no means advocating one religion over the other (I, myself, am not religious at all), merely trying to remain true to the spirit of the characters set forth in the Twilight series. I felt, as well, that some discussion of it was necessary considering that was the last conversation that Bella and Carlisle ever had. And, if you're interested, there are links on my profile to my versions of Bella and Carlisle._

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	6. Part I: Of Reflections & Remonstrations

_Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken._

—_Emma, Jane Austen_

* * *

_Chapter Six – Of Reflections and Remonstrations _

_BPOV_

Since the moment Carlisle came back into my life, it felt as though the world was a blur of sound and color after years of silence and staid black and white. The weeks passed, and we easily settled into a routine that seemed to work for the both of us. Before work, we would meet in the morning at the diner; Carlisle was always waiting with two cups of coffee to-go. Our days were filled with our respective professions, and then we would meet in the afternoon and remain together through the evening. I don't know if I expected our days to be full of drama, but if I had, I would have been terribly let down. Often times, our evenings spent together would pass in silence, with only the rustle of the pages of our books making any noise. Sometimes we played chess or cards, other times we walked and hiked in the vast expanse of forest that seemed to surround our tiny hamlet.

I was sorry I couldn't offer Carlisle any real completion at sports or vampire activities, but he often shook off my apologies and told me my company was far better than that of the vampiric alternative. Looking back, even now, it is hard to understand or explain the way we gravitated towards each other. I had never really considered Carlisle as a companion before he dropped so unceremoniously back into my life. Though he had been the Cullen closest to me after Alice, I wouldn't have termed us friends then. My memories and feelings of him were fond, that was true, but he always seemed to be on the periphery of my life with Edward. It was only after I saw him again that I started to remember all the times he had let me intrude upon him in his study, always willing to talk or discuss the latest book I had pilfered from his shelves. It hurt me then to think how much I took him for granted before in Forks. He was a man of endless compassion and understanding, but I set him aside in my affection for Edward.

Oh, I appreciated him; I know that. But did I ever give him the credit he deserved or care to inquire closely into his life? Our conversations mostly revolved around books and Edward, nothing about the man himself or his passions. The talk we had on my eighteenth birthday had been the deepest one in all those months in Forks.

I thought I had him figured out. Simple country-type doctor, has a saving people thing, loving patriarch, devoted husband, and just so happens to be a vampire—vegetarian, of course. But none of those things could come close to even sketching the man I now knew. He was a wealth of information, once I took the time to get to know him. Carlisle loved to tell stories about what he had seen and done, or perhaps he just liked to tell them to me. So many revolutions and unrests had been witnessed by him; so many life changing medicines and discoveries. He could tell me about his time in Revolution-torn France and then segue, with perfect ease, into his years spent in the western territories of America before they were settled. His grasp on several different languages was sound, sounder than I could ever have imagined. It made sense that a vampire, who had no need of sleep, would devote hours to study and learning. He did tell me that things come easier once you are a vampire, as your brain starts working in a different way and storing knowledge more easily. If it wasn't for the fact that I knew him to be incapable of lying, I would have thought he said it to spare my feelings.

He didn't play a musical instrument for pleasure—though I thought he could play, but he was rather evasive on the subject—but he savored music in a way similar to myself. His tastes were eclectic, and spanned from the period of his birth, madrigals and chamber music, to modern day, rock and alternative. It seemed as though he made a conscious effort not to let time pass him by or get stuck in the past, unlike some nomads he was acquainted with that he told me about. Now that Alice wasn't around to shop for him, he had bought several classic pieces of clothing online—jeans to jackets, suits, sweaters, and shirts—and refused to set foot in a store unless it was absolutely necessary. Really, it was fascinating to see all the changes that were wrought in him by the absence of his family.

He seemed so much younger.

Carlisle, for all his strength and fortitude, desired to please and care for others above all things, and much of this transferred over into how he dealt with people. Without the Cullens around, I saw some spark of his true self. He tended to be obsessively neat, bred from years of necessity as a doctor I am sure, except when it came to his clothes. Once we had reached a level of comfort with each other, he often would toss his jacket on my couch or toe his shoes off, leaving them lying haphazardly in my hallway. He also didn't seem to censor himself much anymore. It could have been the passing of the years, or the fact that I now matched him in physical age, but he was much freer with his opinions now. He loved to talk politics, and he astounded me by being up on all the major governments within the European Union, as well as all state governments in the United States. He had no love for one party over the other, declining to label himself as Democrat or Republican, but said that he often voted for individuals based on their track record with social causes and the underprivileged. He was what Charlie would call a 'bleeding heart' and when I told him that, he responded with a wry grin and said, "Impossible. I haven't any blood in my heart for it to bleed."

Politics were only a small portion of the mix of contradictions that he presented me with. What shocked me even more was his liberal stance towards the rest of mankind regarding morality. I don't know what I expected, but perhaps I simply saw him first and foremost as a preacher's son, and therefore a goody two-shoes. On the contrary, he had an expansive view of others and seemed to think that most people should be allowed to do what they want, as long as it doesn't hurt others. But the fascinating contradiction to this was that he had the exact opposite view of _himself_. It was all well and good for others to act out their desires and live their lives freely, but Carlisle kept a tight rein on his own actions. He excused this by saying, "As I am a supernatural creature, I could easily hurt others with insensible actions. It is better that I keep to myself." I could never decide if this was simply an excuse, or if he genuinely did not think himself worthy of a life lived in the open.

With this description it would be easy to think Carlisle one of the most boring and conventional of men…yet, that too was not the case. He fascinated me, every moment of the day. Sometimes he would show up at my house on weekends, grab my hand, and cart me off to participate in some fun activity like rock climbing or kayaking. Other times he would bring firewood to my house, simply to make sure I was warm enough. He would captivate my mind with stories, both real and imagined, as we sat on my sofa for hours. Often he would ask me questions about my childhood, and the joy and ease that would cross his face when I spoke left me confused, yet content.

He quickly became an essential part of my life, though I was careful not to let him define it. I had learnt too well that lesson. No man would ever again become the center of my existence. That place was reserved for myself alone. Yet, at the same time, Carlisle filled an unwelcome emptiness that I hadn't realized was there. He was my friend, my confidant, and my companion.

I was very careful not to let my feelings be shown beyond that, knowing that any foolish romantic notions could never be reciprocated. Still, I was very aware that such inclinations were there. I suppose it started the day of our first hike. After falling, the sensation of being in his arms was a welcome one. His innate strength shocked me at first, as if I had forgotten that he was a vampire. But once I was in his arms…it felt like the most natural thing in the world to reach up and trace his perfect features. I was certain, for one moment, that he was going to kiss me but soon there was a pained expression on his face and I realized that I was mistaken. He all but ran down to the car, and left soon after settling me in at my house. I resolved then and there to never do anything that might make him uncomfortable again. My friendship with him was too important to risk on feelings that should never be given a voice.

But my resolve only lasted when I was with him. On my own, in the privacy of my home or in my thoughts, I often replayed our closer moments. The kiss he pressed to my temple would often cause flutters to my insides, as I repeated the feeling of his cold lips to my face over and over. I also replayed the feeling of being in his arms, when he carried me and when he had hugged me. He had a near magic ability to make me feel utterly safe and protected. And the feeling of his hand within my own…it haunted me. Our fingers and palms fit so perfectly together, as if they had once been one and then carved away from each other. I had never thought myself the type to be so fanciful, yet it was easy when I was thinking of him. He seemed to me every bit the Byronic hero, in a way that Edward never could.

With Edward, I could easily compare our feelings to that of Romeo and Juliet. I remember thinking that play so romantic in my teen years, but, on closer look, there was nothing romantic about it. The love that Romeo and Juliet have for each other is instant and captivating, yet deeply shallow. He falls for her, when not one hour earlier he was waxing poetic about Rosaline. And the lovers make it into this dramatic opera of secrecy, when if they had both gone to the Prince with their intentions to marry, he would have welcomed a marriage and alliance as a way to end the turmoil that racked Verona. What's more, Romeo kills her kinsman in revenge, all but guaranteeing and end to their romance. Their road to death was one of their own making, and in the end they are nothing but food for the worms. Was this the story that I found so romantic? So enthralling? Edward was right, and it amuses me to think so now.

The most ironic part of it all was that Edward had little patience for Romeo. Made "mistake after mistake," he said. Yet, it would always be Edward in my mind's eye when I thought of that play. He was Romeo to a tee.

Carlisle on the other hand…well, I could easily see him now as a Mr. Rochester or Heathcliff type. He was sophisticated, with an extensive education and high intelligence. He could be mysterious and charismatic if he so chose, and I could sense he was sometimes weary of the world and his place in it. He also tended to be hypercritical of what he perceived to be his own faults, and this could lead often to deep introspection that could leave him silent for hours. After we had joked about _Jane Eyre_, that conversation played in my mind again and again, and not just because of the kiss that followed it. Though he had referred to Rochester as little more than a "man who locks his first wife in the attic, and then sets out to seduce and create a bigamous union with his illegitimate daughter's governess," I thought he might respect him more than he let on. In the end, the character was always true to himself, no matter where that led. If that didn't describe Carlisle, I didn't know what would.

Yet, despite all the time I spent thinking about Carlisle, I was careful to never betray myself when I was with him. It would only serve to make him uncomfortable. I was sure that in Carlisle's mind I would forever remain that clumsy girl he once knew in Forks. We were friends now because of our mutual loneliness, and I had to be cautious not to push past that. It wasn't worth losing him over.

The truth of this was made evident to me one night many weeks after he reentered my life. The light of day was slowly dying, and, from my perch in front of my newly crackling fire, I could see the last of the sun vanish. Carlisle was facing me in a high-backed green chair that matched my own, and a table was between us. Upon the table was a chess set; one that Carlisle had brought from his own home. It differed from most sets in that the pieces were actual little carved people, in lieu of the traditional type that I was used to. Carlisle said they came from a trip he made to Constantinople in the 18th century. I bit my tongue to prevent myself from responding with, "They call it Istanbul now, you know."

It was nearly impossible for me to keep up with him. I knew the game was lost when he took my first pawn _en passant_—the sheer mathematics of it must have been easy for him—but I resolved to enjoy myself anyway. My problem with chess was that I always lacked a strategy. I was a reactionary player, never thinking the two steps ahead that was necessary. Carlisle, of course, had no problem with a tactical and systematic approach to winning. I am sure I was an awful match for him, so easy for him to subdue and defeat, but he seemed to give each move his concentration and diligence anyway.

"So, how's the reading coming?" Carlisle asked after a while, moving his rook.

"Fine thanks," I replied. "In my latest efforts to reread my favorites, I have finished with _Jane Eyre_, _Wuthering Heights_, and am now onto _Pride and Prejudice_." I moved my bishop, only to have him swiftly taken by Carlisle's knight. Damn.

"Ah, Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy," Carlisle said, a teasing note entering his voice. "So destined, and yet so imperiled by society. He's so proud and she is so prejudiced against him. Will they, won't they? You'll be sure to let me know how it turns out, won't you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Like you don't know. I'm sure you've read it more than once."

"Like you," Carlisle grinned.

"True," I conceded. "I like to reread the classics because I often see things that I missed the first time, or come to a different understanding of them."

I moved one of my rooks forward. He then claimed another pawn. Double damn.

"It's funny," Carlisle commented idly.

"What's funny?" I returned.

"You," he said. "In some ways, you have grown and changed so immensely that I can find myself thinking I am talking to a completely different person, but at other times…at other times you are that girl who was so scared, yet so brave, to come to a house of vampires."

I swallowed, hoping he didn't hear it. Casually, I asked, "You think I am really that much like I was in Forks?"

Carlisle was silent for a long moment. His face was impassive, yet his eyes betrayed him. They were studying me with minute detail, as if they were looking for a blemish or imperfection. I could only imagine what Carlisle, or any vampire, saw when they look at me. How did I hold up to supersight? The shallow part of me hoped for prettiness, but the realistic part of me simply hoped that my face did not offend too badly. I could feel the careful study that Carlisle was paying me, but I portrayed outward confidence. It was essential that he did not realize how much I had come to value his good opinion.

Finally, he spoke. "Sometimes Bella, I forget just who you are, and at other times it becomes essential that I remember."

My heart sank at the tone of his voice when he spoke. It was cool and dispassionate. I didn't repeat his words to myself, but I was certain that I took his whole meaning. He obviously still saw me as that gawky seventeen-year-old who stared in awe at the magnificent vampires before her. Oh, how I wanted to go back and erase that year! Would I forever be compared to that idiot girl?

"Are you okay?" Carlisle asked me. "Did I offend you?"

I gave him a tremulous smile. "Of course not. You could never."

"Good," he said with a smile, yet it did not fully reach his eyes. Interesting.

"So what is the plan for this weekend?" I asked him. "Are you still working on your house?"

"Yes," he replied, "but that tends to take my night hours, not my weekend ones. I was thinking about taking a trip into Bangor this weekend instead. Can I tempt you?"

My heart nearly slammed out of my chest. I hoped and wished desperately that he didn't hear it. Can he tempt me, indeed. "Sounds fun," I managed.

"Great," he said with a flash of that brilliant smile of his. "I'm sure we can find some things to do to while away the hours."

With the simple forward movement of his queen, Carlisle had me.

"Checkmate."

No kidding.

* * *

_CPOV_

Putting distance between me and Bella was more difficult than I could have anticipated. It wasn't that she was clingy, quite the opposite, but rather that I just couldn't seem to tear myself away from her. I found myself creating excuses and reasons to see her, so much so that we soon fell into a pattern that I could not see my way out of. And, truth be told, I didn't want to. What we had was comfortable, easy, but even more than that…it was right. It was right in a way that I could hardly understand, and yet I knew it to be true. For some reason, Bella was _meant_ to be in my life. I felt more alive when I was with her, which was a rare feat for someone such as myself. I slipped more and more into an easy way of living. I started to forget what my life was like before there was Bella.

My days seemed to be dominated by her. Mornings were devoted to trying not to think about her, before meeting the very object of my thoughts for coffee at the diner. I took such pleasure in seeing Bella's warm smile of greeting every morning, delighting in the way she always took her hot coffee from my hand with a grateful groan of thanks. We always found ourselves walking easily towards our respective jobs, parting when we reached the hospital. The conversation was always effortless, never stilted, and I found it natural to tell her about my job and my colleagues, what little I knew of them anyway.

I wondered if Bella knew just how much scrutiny our relationship had come under. As we were both relative newcomers to the town, there wasn't the reservation against gossip that would have existed had we been born and raised there. Bella might not have noticed because no one was direct about it, but my superhuman hearing did not allow me the same ignorance. The nurses especially liked to talk about it under their breath. Some of them were under the opinion that Bella was very lucky, or that she was a trollop for stealing me away before I had even settled in. It took every ounce of control I had not to turn and bare my teeth while growling. They were welcome to say what they wanted about me, but Bella was innocent and didn't deserve such disdain. I couldn't understand it either. Sure, I knew what effect my vampire-enhanced looks had on people, but why did women always consider me their public property? It was nothing I hadn't dealt with before, and I had even been married to Esme back then too!

Like the days, our evenings and weekends were also filled with each other. At first, it started out as companionship. But, in no time, Bella became more than just a friendly acquaintance who happened to know my secret. Being near her now seemed almost necessary to my sanity. As if without her, I would not be able to thrive. I had lived centuries by myself, and years too since my family split, but now this one woman had become an integral part of my life. We read, talked, hiked, and drove…anything to spend time with each other. I found myself confiding stories to her that I had never told another living soul, not even Esme or Edward. Stories about my past and my childhood, along with memories from my life as a vampire. Bella was the only person or vampire who could hear tales about my early days, when I didn't have as much control, and not turn away from me in disgust. She seemed endlessly fascinated, and I never felt even the slightest bit of judgment or pity from her. She was simply interested in my life.

In the beginning, I tried to distance myself from Bella emotionally as much as I could. How I longed to return to the days when I saw her as Edward's girlfriend alone! It was so odd. From the moment I had seen her here in Maine, I couldn't force those indifferent feelings to come. The wall that had once separated us was completely gone and I found myself depending on her more and more. My emotions and feelings for her were complicated. Sometimes, I thought of her as the best friend I had ever had; a wonderful companion and confidante. It seemed easy to unburden myself to her, much the way I often would when I saw Eleazar or Liam. Other times, I found myself watching her when she was unaware, and I would simply become shocked at myself at how much pleasure I took simply from looking at her face. And there was nothing friendly about it.

And, loathe as I was to admit it, I found myself comparing her to Esme. Despite the way we parted and the end to our relationship, I had always held Esme as the epitome of womanhood. Her caramel-colored hair framed a face that bespoke her elegant beauty, complimented by a kind heart and sweet nature. She reminded me so much of the women and girls that I had known in my youth, biddable and uncomplicated. Looking back, I wondered if this was why I was so attracted to her once. Did I want to reclaim my lost youth in London? If so, I couldn't have chosen a more perfect companion. In spite of her experiences with her first husband and the loss of her son, Esme remained forever untarnished. She cared more for others than for herself, and in the end I suppose that was just one of the many reasons we drifted apart. Though I knew she loved me, and had for many long years, I don't think I was ever secure in the knowledge that she was _in _love with me. I often wondered, though I tried to push the thought away, if the only reason she became my wife was because she felt obligated to do so after I changed her. Was it my heart she needed, or did she simply care about me too much to consider hurting me with her refusal?

If Esme had an opposite, it was Bella. Bella herself might take such a statement as an insult, but it wasn't in the least. Where Esme was fair, Bella was dark. Where Esme was calm and cool, Bella was warm and passionate. Where Esme was classically beautiful, Bella's stunning looks held a vibrancy that made me want to gaze upon them again and again. Bella was simply an explosion of life and excitement. There was nothing calm and sedate about her presence. Even when we were reading together in the silence of her living room, I could almost feel the energy she kept just below the surface, tensing and struggling to break free. She seemed to savor each moment, valuing every day in a way I couldn't help but feel too when I was with her. She was clearly a modern woman. Despite her love for classical literature, she felt no need to tie herself to those older modes of female behavior. Her views were liberal, and I don't know if she was aware of how much she seemed to relax when she was with me. When she became really passionate about a subject, she would often use a swear word for emphasis and not even notice. She scorned women who dolled themselves up to get attention, and called heavy and thick makeup "tart paint", which I laughed about for several minutes when she explained the meaning to me. For every one opinion she had, there was another that would contradict it. I could never predict what she would say, and that only made every moment with her more exciting.

I think, though, had Bella known I had mentally compared her to Esme, she would have been convinced that she would come out as the lesser of the two. She was simply incapable of seeing herself clearly. Though I knew she had worked hard to build her confidence over the years, I could sense there was still a girl inside her who was afraid of being rejected. And too, I think she harbored suspicions that I was still in love with Esme and that we would one day reclaim our lost love. This much was made clear to me the Friday before we were driving into Bangor.

It was a low-key night, just the two of us sitting in front of the fire. We had watched a movie earlier—_Slumdog Millionaire_—on Bella's flatscreen TV, but now we were both lounging on the couch. My mind was firmly wrapped up in the goddess sitting next to me, mentally berating myself for my less than innocent thoughts, which is why her words shocked me.

"Do you think of Esme often?" she asked, no hint of emotion in her voice.

I was nearly stunned into silence. She wanted to talk about my marriage? My _failed _marriage? Why? To what purpose? I could do nothing but reply, "Sometimes. Why?"

"Do you miss her very much?" Bella asked, turning her face towards mine, gentle sincerity shining in her eyes. I softened immediately. She was much too kind for her own good.

"I don't know if you could call it missing," I said. "I miss being married, I think. I miss having a family, _my _family, with me. I miss her kind heart. And I miss how she cared for us all. But I don't know that I could say that I miss her as my wife." Bella looked confused, so I continued, "You have to understand, Bella. This was building for a long time."

"But the two of you…" she said quietly. "You both seemed so happy, so in love."

"'_Seemed'_ being the important word in that sentence," I murmured. "I loved her. I love her still. But it isn't now, nor was it then, the type of love that is needed to sustain a marriage. Let alone a marriage for all eternity." Sighing, I yanked my fingers through my hair, needing something to focus on. "I have found in my many years that it is only the truest, deepest loves that stand the test of time. People grow, Bella. People change. Even vampires. We might only radically alter for strong emotions, but there are small emotions in everyday living that mean nothing in a month or year, but build over a century. Esme and I had been growing and changing in small increments for a long time, only it was away from each other. Then, when stress was put on the situation, we just fell…apart." I smiled sadly at her. "So yes, I miss her. I always will. But believe me, it is better off that we are no longer together. She deserves a chance to find true happiness."

"You both do," Bella said quietly.

"Perhaps," I conceded, "but you have to remember that I was born a long time ago, Bella. It took me hundreds of years to meet Esme. I might be done." The thought had crossed my mind more than once. I knew that most human women simply couldn't be brought into my world; it was simply too dangerous. And I had never met another female vampire that I could see myself spending eternity with. How could I, for example, commit to another vampire who used humans to slake their thirst? And often vampire women were changed young, often in their teens. In the time I had been born, marrying a teenager might have been done, but I had lived with humans for so long that the idea was repugnant to me now. How could I, for example, love someone like Maggie of the Irish Coven who was my dear friend, yet changed when she was only fifteen? Even the Denali sisters had been changed in their youth. And those who had been changed later, like Kachiri and her sisters, were nomads who would never be able to adjust to my way of living. The only other option was a human who already knew about us, and that was the one thing I refused to even consider. Whatever my private thoughts might be, I would never act on them.

"I doubt that," Bella said, her eyes swimming with some emotion that I couldn't place. "You are meant to have a family, Carlisle, and I am sure you will have one again. Whether it's the Cullens coming back together, or a new one you make for yourself."

I paused before responding. Could I really make a life for myself without Alice and Jasper? Without Rosalie and Emmett? Without Esme and Edward? Even if we were not all together now, it didn't change the fact that I carried them all in my heart. Did I even want to have another family? A new one of my own creation? Perhaps I could see adding a person or two, but to start from scratch? The Cullens had been unique because we were a group of vampires bound together by mutual beliefs and love. Such a thing seemed impossible to recreate. I also knew that I had no desire to make another vampire. How could I take yet another person's choice away? Emmett and Esme might not regret my turning them, but I knew for sure that Edward and Rosalie definitely had regrets. Unless a person knew what they were getting into beforehand, I just couldn't see myself doing such a thing again. I sighed. No, it seemed I was probably cursed to be on my own once again, with the occasional visits from the people that I loved.

For one brief moment, I allowed myself a flash of regret that I would never get to experience having a normal family, like I might have had if I had lived. Before I was changed, my father was urging me to marry; he told me that twenty-three was much too old to not have a wife. I don't know if he cared so much about grandchildren as he did about passing on the family name. He was immensely proud of being a Cullen and all it stood for, what's more for all the things he had done to bring it prestige. He loved to tell me about my grandfather who was the bastard son of a nobleman in Cullen, Scotland, where our family hailed from. Apparently my grandfather's mother had been at a loss as to what last name to give to her son, as his father wouldn't claim him, so she named him for the town she lived in.

For the town that she loved.

To my father, bringing the name legitimacy and prestige was the most important thing in the world. He was immensely proud of his education, and used it as an excuse to forget the life he had lived before it. We never visited the family we had in Cullen, despite my desire to know another living member of my family. In addition, he completely absented any trace of a brogue from his manner of speech, foregoing the dialect of his youth and renouncing any claim to Scottish heritage. What he once was became forgotten, and all that remained was the hard, cold taskmaster I strove so desperately to please.

I know that he took great pains to mold me in his own image. His father might have been a mason who worked with his hands, but by God he would be better. And I had to be too. To further his claims to greatness, he married the daughter of a wealthy merchant, one of the few professions belonging to the emerging middle class. My mother had one brother, Rowland, who died of ague when he was twenty, but not before fathering a posthumous son, my cousin Robbie. They were all the family I once had, of the traditional sort anyway. Now they are all long gone, reduced to mere memories.

I sometimes wonder what my father would think of me now. Whether he would see that I _have _tried to live a good life, despite the disadvantages that God gave me, or would he simply see a vampire who would incur his hate.

I suppose I will never know. At least not until even my eternal life must face its end.

Pulling myself from my thoughts, I looked over at Bella and I saw a pensive expression on her face.

A sudden realization startled me, and I knew without a shadow of doubt that it was true. No matter what new family was begun, no matter if all the Cullens reunited or not, I would not give Bella up, not again. I knew it might distress Edward, but I simply couldn't summon the inner strength necessary to fight myself on this. Bella had been abandoned by us once. I simply wouldn't do that to her again. What I felt for her…well, it was too tentative to describe or categorize. I just knew that I wanted her in my life; however she was willing to be there. It was too late to change the fact that she knew about us. I wouldn't take that knowledge away from her even if I could. No, Bella would stay in my life.

I needed her.

Bella must have taken my silence for confirmation to her question, for she said, "Whoever the woman will be, I bet she is stunning. Much like Esme."

I had lost the thread of the conversation in my ruminations, and it took me a moment to remember what we were talking about. Once I did, I replied, "I've already been married to one Esme. I don't need to do it again."

She gave me a sad smile. "As if you could ever be with anyone less than radiant."

I began to feel annoyed. Didn't she know me at all? "There are much more important things than looks, Bella," I said testily. "The heart is much more important, but that it not to say a person can't have both."

_Like you_, I silently added.

"If you say so," Bella replied obliquely, giving me a pitying smile.

"I do say so," I responded firmly. "This is all academic, though. I have no intention of getting involved with anyone."

"Oh," she said softly, looking away quickly.

If I had a beating heart, it would have stopped in my chest. What was that look? What did it mean? I knew that I never wanted to see that look from her ever again. "Bella? Are you all right?"

She looked over at me then and smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm fine," she replied.

"If you're sure…"

"I am," she stated, more confidence filling her tone. She then seemed to dismiss the entire conversation all together, reaching over to the side table and picking up _Pride and Prejudice_. She quickly thumbed to the page she was on, instantly losing herself to the words. I smiled at seeing the well worn cover of one of her favorite novels. She took phenomenally good care of her books, never letting the pages bend or be torn. They might yellow from age, but never from neglect.

"Where are you in the book?" I asked.

Looking up with reluctance, Bella replied, "At the vicarage in Kent when Mr. Darcy is about to propose."

Grinning, I reached over and plucked my own book off the table. It was _Timequake_ by Kurt Vonnegut. Opening to where my bookmark rested, I teased, "And? What do you think her answer will be?"

Bella looked up again and smiled at me. "To the man who holds her heart, though she doesn't know it yet?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "To him."

"Hmm," Bella responded with a sly grin. "Stay tuned."

_Don't worry, Bella_, I thought. _I will_.

* * *

_So this was a rather transitional chapter, along with some inner thoughts and some fluff, setting up a lot of the future action. I will be curious to see if some of you noticed the things hinted at in this portion of the story, and what you think of them. By the by, Cullen is a real town in Scotland, right on the sea, and it is very beautiful. There is a city called Carlisle, in Cumbria, on the border of Scotland as well (right by Hadrian's Wall!), which I thought was neat. Carlisle Cullen is a very Gaelic and Scottish name. And, considering no one is ever really ONLY from London, I thought I could give a little back story to help fill in the blanks of Carlisle's heritage. Thank you for all the reviews. I am deeply appreciative, and simply shocked that you are all enjoying this story so much._

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	7. Part I: Of Memories and Dreams

_We always long for the forbidden things, and desire what is denied us_

—_François Rabelais_

* * *

_Chapter Seven – Of Memories and Dreams_

_CPOV_

In my life, I have seldom been one to allow my anticipation to get the better of me. I have always been one for composure and for calm, so I couldn't really understand the effect that Bella had on me. I often found myself yearning for her company, keen to be near her. It made no sense to me, and what little I could discover on the subject led me to the conclusion that Bella was simply a person who made me feel better.

Odd thought, that.

I had grown up in a time when one's own wants were subject to the whims and desires of others: the King, my father, the Commonwealth, my tutors, God. Rarely was a decision ever mine to make. I suppose the hundreds of years I spent in solitude could be seen as a time when I gave into my own desires, but it never felt like that. Certainly, I could never have classified myself as hedonistic in those days. So much of that time was spent on learning control and fine-tuning my senses. It was certainly nothing pleasurable. But that was precisely what being with Bella felt like. Like giving in to the most hedonistic pleasure imaginable.

But we were just friends.

Yet, I found myself hard-pressed to remember that when I pulled up to her house that Saturday morning. Bella must have been watching for my car, because she stepped right out of her house, locking the door behind her. When she turned to face me, the sight of her took my breath away, and for the first time I understood that human idea. When she stepped into the light, I was struck by the picture she painted. Her dark mahogany hair was loose about her shoulders and down her back, casually arranged in loose waves that framed her face in a romantic manner. She was wearing a light grey skirt, which flared out at her hips and fell to just above her knees. On top she was dressed in a bright yellow top with three-quarter length sleeves. And to finish the look, she had light brown knee-high boots on her feet. Years of living with Alice had made me semi-fashion conscious, as much as I might detest it, and I was aware of how youthful, yet elegant, Bella looked. She might never satisfy Alice's standards, but the days when she only wore jeans and t-shirts were long gone.

_Alice_. Momentary guilt filled me at the thought that I still had not informed her that the girl she still considered her best friend was here with me. Since that last email I had from Alice, she had been strangely silent. I received a call from my stock broker two days ago, and he said he had spoken to Alice a day before. But I had heard nothing. I had considered briefly that she saw me with Bella and was angry for my keeping it a secret, but that simply couldn't be. There was no way Alice would let any anger she had keep her from Bella. No, I still must be blurry to her, and that meant Bella and I were safe. I had this strange feeling, like I should keep Bella to myself. As if my joy was something to be hoarded. It never even occurred to me to wonder why secrecy was so imperative. Before I could think any more on the subject, Bella opened the door.

"Carlisle, hey!" she exclaimed, settling into the seat and buckling the seatbelt.

"Morning, Bella," I returned. "Ready?"

"Mmm, yes," Bella said, shooting me one of her lovely smiles. "I was up for half the night. Weird dreams. Must have been excitement about this trip."

I grinned at her. "It's just Bangor, Bella. I am sorry to say I can't promise you excitement."

She laughed. "Carlisle, you know full well that my definition of excitement is different from most people's. There is a museum I would like to go to, if it is all right with you."

"Sure," I replied. "I need to meet someone at three regarding getting a new MRI machine for the hospital, but other than that, I am all yours."

She got a peculiar look on her face. She didn't comment right away, but then said, "All right, that's fine. I would like to go to the history museum. They are supposed to have an interesting collection."

I nodded my acquiescence. "Whatever you want. Would you like to walk around as well?"

"I would," she said. She was silent then. Turning her head, she looked out the window, observing the colorful scenery that we were beginning to pass in a wave of color and speed. I easily merged the car onto the highway. Once I was on Route 9, I let my mind drift, occasionally looking over at Bella.

Though I had resolved to keep our growing friendship strictly platonic, I wondered at the wisdom of continuing to spend time with her. I was loath to return to my previous solitary state, yet I knew I was playing with fire here. There was no question of our friendship growing into something more, and still I knew that some part of me yearned for that. I had told Bella that I thought I would be alone forever now, but there was some part of me that did not wish for that fate. Though I couldn't condemn Bella to my life, I would be happy to stay with her and live out her days as she wished. But I knew that I could never do that to her. She would want to settle, to live out her life with a husband, a family, and friends. I would always be condemned to moving away and disappearing into the wind.

What kind of life was that for one such as she?

I knew that I needed her and I knew that I craved her company. So all I could do was live out my life as it came, one day at a time. I would savor the months or years I had with her, however long or short they were. And I would give her all that she required, but never press her for anything. She couldn't be one of us, Edward must have soured her on that idea, but she could still be in my life.

We were silent for most of the way into Bangor, only occasionally remarking on the scenery or some offhanded comment, but the silence was not an uneasy one. I always felt calm in Bella's company, so we were able to spend time in solemnity without the awkwardness that could occur when silence was unwelcome. She seemed to perk up a bit when we began to drive along the Penobscot River. I could see her eyes light with happiness. When we reached the city proper, I made a few circles through the city to allow Bella to see the sights, before parking about three blocks away from the museum.

When we alighted from the car, I helped her onto the sidewalk and then immediately matched my pace to hers. Looking over at her, I saw that she had a slight frown upon her face. "Are you all right?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, shaking her head. "Just a funny dream lingering with me."

"About?"

She grinned wryly. "That's the funny part. I can't remember a bit of it." She fell into silence again, taking in the sights with a pleased look for everything she saw.

"This brings back memories," I said eventually.

"Hmm?" Bella replied. "In what way?"

"Well, this was one of the first places that I came to after settling in America."

"You're kidding me," Bella said.

"No," I said. "I came here after I landed in Boston. I spent a few years in that lovely city, but they were enjoying uncharacteristic sunny days then, so I moved north. Here I could be guaranteed limited sunlight in the winter months and overcast days in the summer ones."

"Did you spend a long time here?"

"A year or two," I said with a practiced shrug. "It was harder to be anonymous in those days. Especially with my English accent. The war for independence had just been won two decades or so prior, skirmishes were still occurring along the Canadian border, and people were still weary of all things English. On top of that, I had no acquaintances here in Maine, and plenty of people seemed uneasy of me." A cool breeze came in off the river, sinking me deeper into my memories. "Humans were not so quick to dismiss the idea of the supernatural in those days, Bella. They sensed I was different, so they learned to fear me."

"I don't know how anyone could fear you, Carlisle," Bella said. I looked over at her and saw her staring at me with perfect faith and friendship in her eyes.

"Yes, well, anyway, I later learned to drop my accent around people and I established a cover story when moving from place to place." I then looked up at the building our feet had led us to. _The Bangor Museum and Center for History_. "Here we are."

For the next hour, we made our way through the rooms and halls, taking in the different exhibits. Seeing the tintypes of the stoic people caused me to smile to myself. Really, people weren't much sterner back then, it was just easier for humans to sit with a blank face for the camera. I knew how much Bella enjoyed history, but she seemed to almost float happily through the museum. She marveled at the photographic prints, daguerreotypes, and glass plate negatives. Occasionally she would ask me a question about the period, but mostly she seemed to be lost in her own little world.

Bella equally enjoyed the period clothing that the museum had collected. The exhibits contained hundreds of gowns, walking suits, day dresses, evening dresses, hats, and shoes stretching from the nineteenth century to the late twentieth century. Some of the ones from the turn of the previous century took me right back to when I first married Esme. She had loved to wear those wide-brimmed Edwardian felt hats, long after they were out of fashion. I had loved the way she used to raise one hand to her head, holding it in place when the hatpin failed, curving her head upward to meet my eyes. She always used to smile and say, _"See something you like, my love?"_

"Carlisle?" I was pulled out of my reverie to see Bella staring at me with a confused expression on her face. "Are you all right?" she asked. "I have been calling your name for awhile."

"Yes, I'm fine," I told her, following her into the next room. When I did, I immediately wished I had stayed outside. Filling every inch of the large exhibit were Civil War chests, swords, letters written by Union soldiers, diaries, personal papers, and, most importantly, uniforms. Many, many uniforms.

I was suddenly thrust back into the middle of the battlefield; blood, limbs, and bodies all around me. That room, which would be so innocuous to anyone else, sent me head first into my memories of a blood-soaked field at Antietam. I could almost smell the thick coppery scent which hung in the air. The sharpness of it, which coated my nostrils and caused a tiny burn in the back of my throat. To any other vampire, it would have been a banquet, and to some nomads moving along the periphery it was…but to me, it was a graveyard. Though I moved as quickly as possible, though I tried everything I could, too many young men died in my arms. Grey coats and dark blue ones; they all melded together and became innocent life after innocent life. All dying at the whims of old men, ones who would never see the horror of the battlefield on which they lay. I could still remember the way I hurriedly moved, my beloved apothecary chest under my arm, as I tried to ease the tide of suffering. But there was no relief to be had. Endless deaths, thousands of lost limbs and lives, and a battlefield strewn with bodies as far as the eye could see, were the only results of that horrible engagement.

That night, for the first time, I was glad I could not dream. For what horrors would my nightmares have shown me?

At the sensation of a warm hand upon my arm, I looked to Bella who was staring at me with a concerned expression on her face. "What is it?" she asked. "And don't say 'I'm fine'."

"Just memories," I said, giving her what I hoped was an unaffected smile. Steering her from the room, I commented, "You know, Jasper was a Major in the Confederate Army."

"No way," Bella replied. "I didn't know he was _that_ old."

My lips twitched. "Are you trying to say that Jasper is elderly? If you think he is old, I wonder what you think of me," I commented idly.

Bella, realizing what she said, began to stutter, "I didn't…that is…it's just…I wasn't…"

I could torment her no further and began to laugh deeply. "Don't worry, I am only teasing you," I said.

The relieved grin on her face caused my stomach to clench in a peculiar fashion. Why did I seem to get such pleasure at the mere sight of her smile? For that matter, why did a mere glimpse of her concerned and kind face, make me forget the memories that I had been forcefully suppressing for years due to the horror they held? What power did she have over me?

We came to the end of the hall, and Bella stepped away from me, looking out the window to the street below. Her face was blank from expression, yet she seemed peaceful. I wondered what thoughts occupied her mind. She looked so serene, so calm that she reminded me of a painting I had once seen in Zurich. Entitled _Portrait of Mademoiselle Irene Cahan d'Anvers_, it was one of Renoir's works. The painting was of a young girl, yet I thought that Bella had something of her innocence about her face. So intense was it to watch her, that I could almost feel myself back on that winter's day when I had entered the Swiss museum and stared at that painting for hours, long after my family had moved on and continued through the rest of the rooms, nearly forgetting to act human by twitching or shifting. It had entranced me then, much the way Bella entranced me now.

Her beauty was engrossing. Were I a poet, I am sure I could devote odes and endless lines to her lips, eyes, and smile. I was struck by her the first time I saw her, and I remember thinking that I understood why Edward was so fascinated with her. I didn't smell her blood the way he did, it wouldn't have smelled any different to me, but I could see the faint blush in her cheeks and how attractive she was. I had been careful to mask my thoughts from my son, who was standing right there next to me, but I thought it all the same. So too did I realize then that Bella would be much more than a siren of bloodlust to him. There was something about her, I knew it and so did he. He was still in denial about his feelings then, but it was right under the surface, brewing. Because, Bella was simply a girl that sonnets were written for. She had that sort of ineffable beauty. One that heralds sung about and bards wrote of.

And, seeing her now, I was no less struck by her now than I had been then. Every time I saw her face, she pulled me in again and again. There were none like her, and never would be. It put me in mind of a Robert Burns poem: "_To see her is to love her, /And love but her for ever; / For Nature made her what she is, / And ne'er made sic anither!_" I was certain that no matter how far I traveled, no matter how far I journeyed, I would never see her likeness again. I had seen many captivating immortals, but I thought that none quite embodied beauty the way she did. Was it her propensity to smile and blush? Or was it simply because her beauty was so fleeting? I knew that one day she would age and die, and all that would be left of her was this perfect memory of her standing at the window of the museum, gazing out into the distance.

While there was sadness in that thought, there was beauty in it too. It wasn't that I envied Bella her short life, but rather that I was happy she would get to live it. She would marry, have children, and spend her life as only a person who would one day die could. She would change and grow, more than just mentally. Her time would be all the sweeter as its brevity increased. Her heart would be touched the more she lived, and she would learn to see things in a way I never could. For that, I was glad for her.

Her mortality was something to be savored and protected. I felt, in that moment, no small amount of sympathy for Edward. Perhaps I understood him at last.

She turned to me, haloed by the window frame, and said, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes," I declared. Offering my arm, I smiled at her and said, "Shall we?"

Though I was happy for her, though I knew that a life well lived was worth a million endless eternities, for one tiny moment, that simply wasn't enough. I would never dream to wish her death, or take from her that which was only hers to do with as she thought best, but I wanted her to make a different choice. For that one selfish moment, I wanted her to ask me once again to make her into a vampire. The thought of losing that which was now precious to me, made my soul feel like weeping.

More than anything, I wished that I could keep her with me for always.

* * *

_BPOV_

The morning of our trip to Bangor, I woke to the glaring red numbers of my alarm clock shining into my eyes. The day was another overcast one, something I am sure Carlisle was happy for, much like I was, as it meant we did not need to call off our little day trip. I had eventually fallen into a restless sleep around two in the morning. No matter what I did, I couldn't seem to calm my troubled mind. Snatches of conversations and mumbled words were repeated for me over and over, but I could make no sense of any of it. There was something I was supposed to know or figure out; I couldn't make heads or tails of it. It was something to do with Carlisle, of that I was certain. And something about me as well, but every time I tried to latch onto the thought, it slipped away in the most annoying way. And my dreams, once they came, were kept from me. I knew that I had been in the throes of an intense dream, but, for the life of me, I could not remember it.

I stepped into a hot shower, allowing the spray to scald me. What was it those flashes and glimpses were trying to tell me? I pushed it from my mind, telling myself I could think on it later. There was no need to worry about it now, not when something much more worrisome was on the horizon. My day with Carlisle was much more pressing.

Once I was out of the shower, I stood in front of my closet and debated about what to wear. For once, I didn't want Carlisle to see me as that girl he knew in Forks. I was more than that, and I wanted him to know it. Sure he would never feel anything more for me than friendship, but that didn't mean he couldn't see me as a woman, did it?

Eventually, I settled on a cute little outfit that made me feel extremely girly. If my teenage self could only see me now; she would shake her head with disgust. After scrunching my hair and letting it settle into its semi-natural waves, I left my bedroom and went to the kitchen to make myself something to eat.

While I crunched on dry cereal, I looked out into my backyard. I really should plant the garden that I had been planning come spring. When I was a little girl, I had loved flowers. They were so rare in Arizona, almost like an endangered species. Our flower beds were filled with cacti and succulents, and our lawns were made of gravel or dirt. Greenery just wasn't something we could have in our climate. Though I loved the heat, I did wish for a garden full of flowers. At the age of ten, my favorite book was _The Secret Garden_. We had moved to Phoenix when I was six, but I still remembered the garden we had in Riverside, California. Maybe that was why I had loved the book so much. I always identified with Mary Lennox, thinking that my garden in our Arizona homes and apartments were much like the one she found before she brought it back to life. Barren, dead, and void of life, all it needed was some water and love, and the flowers would burst into bloom. Desert wildflowers weren't enough for me. I wanted proper English roses, set in a walled garden with a key to allow only myself to enter.

I set my bowl down in the sink when I finished, and then stilled. With a sixth sense I would later chide myself for, the hairs on the back of my neck began to stand on end. It was Carlisle. He was here. Without even checking to see if I was correct, I let myself out the door, locking it behind me before walking over to his waiting car.

"Carlisle, hey!" I chimed as I settled into the car. Internally, I winced. I hoped that it didn't sound as breathless as I thought it did. Admiringly, I took in Carlisle's form. He was dressed in what had to be designer jeans and Italian shoes. His crewneck midnight blue sweater was pushed up to his elbows, exposing his pale, yet somehow golden, forearms. But I was especially interested in the skin exposed at his neck, along with his bare clavicle. A hint of golden hair peaked out the top of his sweater, teasing me with what was underneath.

It was unfair for a man to look that beautiful.

"Morning, Bella," he said with a grin, his face betraying nothing. "Ready?"

The morning passed in a bit of a blur. Our trip into Bangor was on the quiet side, but I didn't mind. Though I promised myself not to think of it, I couldn't seem to force my mind away from the dream I had had the night before. There was one in particular. It was tugging at the edge of my consciousness. I was supposed to remember!

So why couldn't I?

What was my annoying brain trying to tell me? Why did I suddenly feel hot and achy in Carlisle's company? I hadn't noticed it at first, my mind was too wrapped up in its riddle, but it was now clear to me. That desire that had been simmering below the surface had boiled over. Being near him was causing an innumerable amount of dirty thoughts to enter my mind.

All through our trip to the museum, I would allow my mind to black out for a bit and raunchy images would fill my mind. What was wrong with me?

After we quitted the museum—with my companion seeming to have something on his mind—Carlisle was kind enough to remember my human needs and suggested a small café on the corner. Once we were seated and had ordered (club sandwich for me, cappuccino, which would sit untouched, for him), he smiled at me.

"What?" I asked, finding myself grinning back in return.

"Nothing," he said. "Must I have a reason to smile?"

"People usually do," I commented dryly.

He beamed at me and I felt myself grow a bit breathless. "True," he said, "but perhaps in this instance I am simply happy to be in your company."

Well, what the hell was I supposed to say to that? I felt my face grow hot, but I willed myself not to react in any outward manner. He was so open, so kind. I just wanted to curl up in his arms and hug him to my body, thanking him for rediscovering me. I would have survived just fine in Calais without him, but he made living there all the sweeter. Reaching out to take one of his cold hands in my own, I smiled at him. "I feel the same way. You have been very good to me, Carlisle."

"I consider you one of the better friends I have ever had, Bella," Carlisle said earnestly, leaning forward a bit. "I hope you know that."

My heart equal parts sunk and glowed at his use of the word 'friend'. Happy as I was to be numbered among the few who could put claim to that title, I was sorry that that epithet was the only distinction I would ever be able to have in regards to him. Yet, the sincere expression on his face softened the blow a bit. A very little bit.

"I feel the same about you," I returned. "Seeing you in Calais was a surprising bit of happenstance."

Carlisle smiled at me. Looking down, I realized we were still holding hands. Gently, I tried to tug my hand away, but he wouldn't let me. Instead, he turned it so that the scar that I still bore on my hand could be seen in all its glory. The flesh there was endlessly cool to the touch. My permanent reminder of what happens when you play with fire. Carlisle fingered it gently with an icy digit, and I jerked my hand away slightly, though he still held it firmly in his grasp.

"Does it still hurt?" he asked in surprise. He had examined it many times that summer before he left Forks, so he knew that the pain was long gone.

"No, it's just…"

"Sorry," he said, ducking his head as if he had been scolded. "You must not like to think about it."

"No, you're right. I don't," I said, "but not for the reason you might suspect."

His head shot up and he suddenly pinned me with his golden eyes. Black was encroaching from the iris. He would need to hunt soon.

"I just sometimes wonder…what if we had just let the venom spread? Maybe that would have been better. I wouldn't have been a tasty treat for Jasper on my birthday, and your family never would have broken apart." His grip on my hand tightened slightly, but not enough to cause any discomfort. "It seems you lost everything because of me."

"Not everything," Carlisle said quietly, looking deeply into my eyes. After a long moment, he said, "I am sorry for this." He traced the crescent-shaped mark on my hand. "I would've given anything to prevent the pain it caused you."

I was touched by his words. Not because of the sentiment behind them, but because of the way they sparked something in me. They were evocative, telling me something I was meant to know. I had heard them before, but where?

Suddenly, the dream that had been teasing me all morning came rushing back to me. What's more, I could now suddenly remember every bit of it. My face heated as I thought of all the details.

_The room was hot, the humid air causing my clothes to cling to me. My muscles and limbs felt tight, as if they were being restrained. I stood by the window, on an upper floor, looking out over an endless lawn framed by trees. There was a slight breeze of warm air that teased the flimsy blue-lace curtains and made them dance. The wind carried with it the gentle hum of crickets and the soft call of a nightingale. Looking down at my body, I saw that I was wearing a gauzy white dress which clung to my breasts and flowed out from my hips to the ground. My hair was loose and long, hanging down to my hips in delicious abandon. _

_I was waiting. Anticipation was in the air, and something was coming. I didn't know what, but something told me to stand there. The wooden floor was the only cool thing touching my body, and I shifted from foot to foot on its flat surface. I hated to wait, but I no longer had to. Looking out the vast expanse, I saw I figure come through the trees and begin to walk across the long lawn. _

_It was a man. _

_His hair was the color of gold, with eyes a shade or two darker, that I could see glowing from where I stood. He was wearing tan pants which just barely grazed the wet grass as he walked. His white collared shirt seemed anachronistic to modern times, but it was open at the chest and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He was walking assuredly, as if he knew the way to his destination without help. _

_Something about him was calling to me. I felt it with every beat of my heart and every fiber of my being. This was it. This was what I had been waiting for. This was what I had been put on the earth for. Why I had spent so many sleepless nights on my own; why my bed was empty to this day. It was because of this man. He was the one._

_Suddenly, he was gone from the lawn and I felt my heart stop. Where was he? Surely he wasn't going to leave me here, all alone? A bead of sweat dripped down my back, catching at the dip of the line of my dress. Come back, I whispered in my heart. Come back._

"_I'm here," he said, and I whirled around._

_Standing in the frame of the doorway, he could not be more stunning. The features that had been indistinct from a distance were now visible in sharp relief. A smooth brow gave way to chiseled features with a straight nose, a strong jaw, and perfect lips. _

_He was, in a word, beautiful. _

"_I've been waiting," I whispered. "For so long. I've been alone and I…" I didn't even know where the words were coming from. I didn't know I felt this way, let alone that I could express it. _

"_It's over now," he said. His words were little louder than a whisper, yet I felt them with every bit of my soul. "Bella."_

_In a blur of movement, he was suddenly before me, yanking me into his arms. His lips found mine in a giddy rush of feeling, stripping away what little objection I had. This was right. This was how it was supposed to be. I was his and he was mine. His cool lips gently massaged my own, sending shoots of pleasure down my spine. Pulling me closer to him so that our bodies were aligned, he deepened the kiss, parting my lips and touching his cool tongue to my own. _

_I stopped thinking all together. How could I possibly describe the pleasure he was giving me? I clutched at the lapels of his shirt for a moment and then pushed them aside to reveal the hard slabs of marble that made up his chest. It was cold to the touch, but only barely soothed the fever that was covering my skin and tormenting me from the inside out. _

"_Please," I whispered against his unyielding lips. "More."_

_He pulled down the sleeves of my gown, ripping it so that the arms of the dress dropped to the floor, fluttering like downy feathers. He then let go of his hold on the bodice of the dress and it instantly dropped, pooling at my bare feet. I stood before him utterly naked, yet I felt no shyness at his hungry gaze that swept from my hair to my toes, lingering in the middle. It felt right for him to look. I was his to do with as he wanted, and if it pleased him to see me that way, I could feel no objection. On the contrary, the heat of his gaze seemed to do things to my body. Warmth was pooling between my thighs and I had to clench them together to keep myself from shuddering with pleasure and want. _

_From the suddenly ravenous expression on his face, my growing desire had not gone unnoticed. The grin that stretched across his face was practically feral. With one quick tug, I was back in his arms and he was caressing my naked flesh with his chilled fingers. He laced one hand through my hair and jerked my mouth back to his. This kiss was not gentle or coaxing. It was heat and passion combined, telling me with his mouth that which he could not say with his words. He was commanding me, bending me to his will as he branded me his._

_But I was not some submissive participant._

_Impatiently, I ripped his shirt open, spreading it off his shoulders and letting it drop from his arms. His exposed torso, with its light dusting of golden hair, caused my mouth to go dry. Was this what he had been covering with all of his shirts and sweaters?_

_What a sin._

_His trousers were the next to go. He yanked open the placket of buttons that held them closed, forcing them down his hips and then kicking them away from his feet. I barely had time to admire him before he pulled our bodies together once again. Pressed up against me, I could feel his desire, but I was not scared. I couldn't be scared of him. Not ever. _

_This was simply the next step for us; the next movement forward. It had been building—God, for so long!—but now it was here. We were together, and that was the only thing that could, and did, matter. We wouldn't be separated again, not once this happened. He would make me part of him and then—_

_Something would happen. Something I had been waiting for, but what?_

_He lifted me into his arms and placed me quickly down on the bed. Without giving me a moment to process, he settled in the hollow between my legs and aligned our bodies. The next several moments were a blur of pleasure and sensation. He touched me in places I couldn't have begun to imagine, wringing cries of pleasure and ecstasy from my chest. I tossed my head, crying out loudly, caring not if anyone heard us. My own hands were not still, and I tried to mimic his movements, but it was clear that he was the master, and I the novice. _

_Eventually, after what felt like endless hours of touching and tasting and caressing, he fitted our bodies together and thrust forward. There was no pain, and I was glad for it. There should never be pain from him, only pleasure. I could imagine no world where this man could hurt me in anyway. We belonged together. He was my other half, my soulmate. It was silly and stupid and so cliché that it almost made me choke on the saccharine sentiment…but that didn't make it less true. When he began to move, my hips instinctively answered his, knowing what to do, despite my lack of experience. _

_I felt pleasure out to my toes, and my body was building towards something. I knew what it was and I pressed against his cool flesh to reach it, clamping my warm thighs around his waist and pushing against them. He growled his pleasure, causing his chest to rumble. His thrusts grew more needy, more intense. Every stroke was like a shot of pure pleasure to every extremity of my body. My abdomen was clenching continuously, preparing me as my body grew tighter and tighter. His cold lips caressed my neck, licking at the artery as I found my culmination. My muscles clamped down on him over and over again, squeezing and shuddering around his hard, cold flesh as I crested endlessly. Within moments, I felt the spurt of his cold essence inside of me and his body then fell heavily onto mine. _

_After a long moment, he whispered, "I'm sorry for this. I would give anything to prevent the pain."_

_My mind was hazy, and I couldn't follow what he was saying. "What pain? There was no pain, darling. There could never be pain with us."_

"_Only once, and never again," he whispered, kissing my neck with his dead lips. "Forgive me."_

"_For what?" I asked._

_Then he bit down._

_Agony like I had only known once before ripped through my body, setting fire to my organs and my veins. It was so intense that I felt my mind struggle to protect me, trying to force me to lose consciousness. As my vision grew muddled, I saw one last sight before succumbing to the darkness._

_It was Carlisle, still lying atop my body with his flesh joined to mine, and he was licking my blood from his lips._

"Bella? Bella! Are you all right?"

The sound of Carlisle's voice yanked me from the dream. I wondered if my face was hot. It felt hot. Everything felt that way. My entire body was tense, filled with anticipation. Fire spread through my veins, but it was a different fire than the one that had caused such pain in my dream. No, this was a fire as old as time itself. Something indescribable, but recognizable to all those who had felt it. This was the feeling that caused Antony to chase Cleopatra, which made Guinevere risk everything for Lancelot, which forced Henry the Eighth to rip apart his kingdom for Anne Boleyn, and the one that helped Paris destroy a civilization for Helen.

I now knew that I felt for Carlisle something that I had only ever read about and felt the barest stirrings of with Edward. The intensity of it shocked me. Filling every pore and bit of my body, I was near to overflowing with the sensation and it was all directed at the man sitting opposite me.

It was desire, and my conclusion was simple.

I wanted him.

* * *

_The quote from Robert Burns was from his poem "Bonnie Lesley". I took descriptions of the museum directly from their website, tweaking them for my own needs. Thank you for all the reviews. I love that so many people picked out little things that I had hidden, and others saw things that I didn't mean to give away! I love that I have such clever readers, though I won't say which ones of you got it right. And, please stop by my author page and see the lovely banner that was made for me by the amazing Catastrophes. It is truly beautiful._

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	8. Part I: Of Choices and Choosing

_Of sorriest fancies your companions making,  
Using those thoughts which should indeed have died  
With them they think on? Things without all remedy  
Should be without regard: what's done, is done._

—_Macbeth, William Shakespeare_

* * *

_Chapter Eight – Of Choices and Choosing_

_CPOV_

We dawdled over tea for some time. Bella seemed deeply reflective. She stared down into the brown depths of the dregs of her tea, every so often stirring it listlessly with her spoon. English Breakfast; that was always the tea that she made for herself in the evening before I left. The caffeine didn't bother her I gather. It seemed strange to me that something like tea, a drink which had become so quintessentially British, was one I had never tasted. It was introduced to the coffee houses around the time of my change, but it had not yet become a staple in households; thus, I missed it all together. My country—and it seemed sometimes like my very life as well—had passed me by.

Bella let out the smallest of sighs.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," she said quickly, snapping her head up and dropping her spoon to her cheap, china saucer with a clang. "No. What could be wrong?"

"That's why I am inquiring. You seemed fine earlier, and then you rushed off before finishing your meal, and now you aren't drinking your tea." _And you won't meet my eyes_, I added silently. "Are you sick?"

Her cheeks suddenly became infused with a rush of color. "No, I'm fine."

"Are you?" I parroted, for lack of a better thing to say. I knew not what was wrong with her. I considered all that had passed that morning, but there was not any real reason for her to be acting so strangely. Reflexively, I sighed inaudibly. I suppose that, no matter how much time has passed, I still cannot claim to understand the great mystery that is women. They are a foreign species, be they human or vampire.

"Can we go?" she asked suddenly, her brown eyes piercing me.

"Of course," I said, pulling out my wallet and tossing two twenties on the table by the sugar packets. I habitually put on my jacket as I stood. Turning to walk towards the exit, I suddenly realized that Bella wasn't following me.

She stood by the table, holding her purse, staring at the tabletop.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Pay for lunch," she replied. "You didn't have to. I would have."

"It's nothing," I said dismissively.

"It's not nothing," she said calmly. "You ordered a cappuccino which you didn't drink. I had a meal. I should have paid."

"Bella—"

"You shouldn't do things like that just because you can," she said, somewhat fiercely. Bella then looked up at me for the first time. There was genuine hurt in her eyes, but something more, something that lay deeper. It couldn't be fear, could it? "I can take care of myself," she said, then stomping away from the table and out of the restaurant.

We walked silently along the boulevard. I couldn't help feeling that there was more that had just happened between us than a discussion about splitting the bill. But what it was…I couldn't say. There was something wrong, that much was certain, but I had no idea what or, even worse, how to correct it. In many ways, Bella was a riddle to me. I could understand the basic tenets that made up her character; she was kind, loving, devoted, beautiful, truthful…but there was so much that went on beneath the surface that I couldn't reach. Much of that had to do with who she was, but even more of it had to do with all the damage that had been wrought upon her heart. I knew it was true. Edward, in spite of all his personal sacrifices, had changed her. I don't think she could accurately be described as innocent anymore. Whatever her physical state, which I internally acknowledged I had no business thinking about, that aura of innocence that used to coat her completely was no more.

We stopped our silent ramble outside a park, and Bella turned to me, a sudden forcefulness in her manner. "I'll wait here," she said. "You go, talk to that guy about the MRI machine, and I will be here."

There was something about her face that made me want to refuse her. Something was wrong, I could sense it. But, looking at my watch, I would soon be late to the meeting, and it was the purpose of my visit to Bangor in the first place. Against my better judgment, I nodded at her. "Will you be all right?"

"Sure," Bella said. "I have George Eliot to keep me company."

"Ah. _Middlemarch_?"

"_Daniel Deronda_." She opened her purse and pulled the heavy volume from within. Waving it at me a bit, and grinning, she said, "I'll be fine."

"All right then," I said. "See you soon?"

She smiled. "I'll be the one under the tree with the book."

"Right," I laughed. She turned then, walking into the shade of the park. I watched her as she ambled on the path, finally turning and settling under a birch tree. She was very near to the small pond that dominated the green, and the swans and ducks seemed to catch her interest for a time. Her eyes were fixed in their direction, occasionally closing. I could hear her heartbeat, and it intermittently increased and then subsided back to its normal rhythm. With deep regret, I forced myself to leave the edge of the park.

Forty tedious minutes later, the purchase of an MRI machine had been completed—to be delivered in three weeks—and I found myself once again on that sidewalk at the edge of the park watching Bella. She was still leaning against the tree, but the book that should have been opened in her lap was sitting closed next to her purse. Her thoughts, it seemed, were much better occupied.

I could have stood there for hours watching her, but it happened that she sensed my presence. Her head suddenly snapped up and I was rewarded with a wide smile from her. Standing, she stuffed the book back in her purse and made her way to me. When she reached my side, I saw that the happy look had been exchanged for one of contemplation and I wished, not for the first time, that Edward's gift had been mine as well.

Once we were both in the car, seatbelts fastened, I started the car and led us home. The scenery seemed to crawl by as we made our way out of the city, but I had a feeling that Bella was paying about as much attention to it as I was. Eventually, I could take the silence and the mystery no longer.

"Bella? Are you all right?"

She turned to me, her eyes narrowed and void of expression. Her mouth was pinched in a way I had never seen before, and hoped never to see again. Then, without warning, her face relaxed. Her eyes, which had seemed so cold and unforgiving moments before, met mine in the most earnest of expressions.

"Have you ever felt like everything you have ever known was turned on its head?"

Images flashed through my mind. Being turned into a vampire; meeting the Volturi; finding Edward; marrying Esme; Bella bleeding in a ballet studio… I shook my head, forcing that last image from my mind. There was nothing to be gained from that kind of thought. Looking straight ahead at the road, I simply whispered, "More than I would have wished."

Bella nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

I paused, not sure I wanted to fully know the answer to my question, but then plunged ahead. "Did the world you know get turned on its head today?"

"Yes," she whispered. It was so quiet that I wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for my enhanced hearing.

"I see," I commented idly. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No," she murmured.

"All right," I said, swallowing back the venom that suddenly rushed to my eyes and throat.

"One day maybe," Bella speculated, turning her attention to outside the window. There was silence between us again. Eventually, Bella turned to me and asked, "Carlisle, if you could go back and live your life differently, would you?"

I opened my mouth to answer, affirmation on the tip of my tongue, but then I stopped. Was my life really what it should have been? If I could go back, what would I change? Would I stop myself from leading the raid that night, or would I merely steer the mob towards an empty location? Would I have become a vicar as my father wanted? Working my way up through the ranks, applying all my desire to help people in need to healing their spiritual body, instead of their physical one. Would I have married some young woman, trying to love her, despite the fact that marriages were based on economics in those days, instead of emotion? Would I have had children with her, devoting myself to my parish and never really knowing how close I came to real danger? Would I have eventually dismissed my father's zealous nature about witches and vampires, instead devoting myself to my dependants? Perhaps I would have grown old or died young, leaving behind no trace of my existence except for a notation in a family bible and a name on a headstone that would fade and erode given enough time.

Or perhaps I would take back some of my actions as a vampire. If that meeting in that dank alley was inevitable, what would I have changed afterward? Would I have succumbed to my "natural" food source? No, even in my darkest moments, I never would have. But what about the lives I touched? Would I take back Edward, or Esme, or Rosalie, or Emmett? Should they have been left to die; was that truly their respective destinies? Was I right to play God? Neither Edward nor Rosalie had ever thanked me for it, I knew that. But was it the right course anyway? Emmett seemed meant for vampirism, but would he be the man I loved and respected without Rosalie? And Edward…oh, Edward. My first member of my family. He suffered so much because of what I did to him, yet I always cherished the years we had. He was a brother to me, a son. How could I wish that away? And then finally, Esme. Would I change my life with her if I could? Would I take back all our glorious years together, trading them instead for loneliness and wisdom? Yes, it ended. It was always meant to, I can see that now. But when it was, when we lived and when we loved each other, I can honestly say that I was happy. How could I wish to take back the life of the woman who, in many ways, made me a man? Before her, I was like a buoy in the sea; endlessly floating with no purpose. Even Edward couldn't give me what I was looking for. But in Esme, my desires were realized. I had wanted family, and, with her, I suddenly had it. Those years aren't less simply because we ended up apart.

But what about Bella? Our decision to move to Forks and the subsequent meeting between us and Bella Swan, would I change that? Looking over at her now, I studied her delicate profile, tracing the elegant arch of her eyebrows and following the high slant of her cheekbones. She was loveliness personified, and I wanted nothing more than to spend hours at a time examining every bit of her. Did I, could I, regret her?

No fucking way.

Such indelicacies rarely came to my thoughts, but the thought of giving up knowing Bella was like my being cut to pieces and fed to a hungry fire. Every feeling within me rebelled at the thought. I was meant to meet her. There could be no other hand behind it except for my Creator. In Forks, she had shaken up our lives, but here…here she had shaken up mine. For, really, what were the chances that I would work in the little hospital in the same small town she had moved to? Such coincidences did not happen outside of stories. _Deus ex machina._ That's what it was called in novels and plays when circumstances were resolved by a seemingly outside force. Well, my story might not be resolved, but it certainly felt like God behind it all. Call it God, call it fate, Bella and I were meant to meet again that day in the hospital in Calais, and there had to be a reason that we kept being brought together again and again. So really, how could I regret her? How could I wish our meetings undone?

In the end, I would change nothing. My life was what it was and what it was always meant to be. No matter the pain it brought me, no matter the centuries of loneliness, no matter the life of hiding and desiring what I could not have (in blood and body alike)…I would change nothing.

"No, not a thing," I finally answered, shocked by that conclusion.

She sighed. "Neither would I…and that scares me a little."

"Why?"

"Because…if I was a good person, wouldn't I want to change things that brought others pain?"

I sighed. "You can only live your own life, Bella. What others lived and experienced is because of their choices, not yours." I sighed again. "This is terribly philosophical, isn't it?"

She laughed, but it was an odd sound, not the tinkling of bells I had become accustomed myself to. "Yes, terribly," she said.

"Why are you asking these questions, Bella?" I queried. There seemed to be neither rhyme nor reason to them.

"I just—" she took an audible breath. "Never mind."

I let out a frustrated gulp of air. "Do you not trust me at all?"

She turned to me, a horrified look upon her face. "Of course I trust you!" she avowed. "It's not you, not really. I just can't talk about all my thoughts, okay?"

"Whatever it is—"

"It's nothing you can help me with," Bella said softly.

"I could try," I said, growing weary of the guessing game, though I would never give voice to such thoughts.

"There are some things, Dr. Cullen," Bella whispered earnestly, lifting her chocolate eyes to my own, "that you simply can't fix."

I felt, in that moment, as if all my secrets were laid bare to her eyes. There was a keen, steadfastness to her gaze. She wanted no further action with her earnest eyes. I was comforted by their constancy. But how was it that she could look at me in such a way? There was nothing about her looking at me to cause another to think it suspect, and yet I was undone by the sight of it. Could she see me? Were my many sins written on my face? Did she see the lives I had tried to save or the four I had taken and perverted for my own selfishness? Were the horrors I had known so clear to her unblinking vision? It had only been a second, but it felt endless to my mind. It was as if all my world was in that moment with us, all my history and problems and errors and trials, but she saw it all and cared for me anyway.

So many times in my life I had felt so alone. I cared not for the world and the world cared not for me. Yet with her, with Bella, I could never feel that way. My family had been a comfort to me, but Bella felt like a balm to my soul. I couldn't feel weary when I was with her. How was she doing this? At that moment, she smiled slightly at me and I felt undone. Had I a beating heart, it would have burst out of my chest. Had I sweat, my palms would have moistened with nerves. Had I tears, they would have gathered in my eyes and the back of my throat, instead of the venom that was coming in their place. Because I had realized one simple truth… I needed Bella.

"Bella," I whispered back. Without thought, my fingers lifted from the wheel and found their way to her hand, intertwining that which felt as though it was made to be entwined. "I wish I could say something, say anything really, that could ease your distress."

Bella looked down at our fingers, pale skin upon paler skin, wrapped together in her lap. "How do you do that?" she inquired softly. "How do you take a simple statement and pull me toward you? You make me feel as if I was in one of my novels come to life, and you talk that way too. You make me feel so…" Her brow furrowed as she searched for the word she wanted. "Uncouth, I suppose," she finally said.

"You shouldn't feel that way," I replied as gently as possible. "If I am a supporting character come to life, then it is your story and I am yours to command."

A smile quirked at her perfect lips for a moment, and then was gone. "Who said you are a supporting character?" Bella asked. "I rather think you are the hero."

Before I could have stopped myself, I whispered, "But are not you the heroine?"

Her lovely and sparkling eyes met mine, and then she said the words that would change my life forever. "Would it be so bad if I were?"

All thoughts that I had forbidden myself from thinking were now free.

* * *

_BPOV_

The car was eerily silent for the remainder of our trip back to Calais. After I had asked him that question, silence had reigned between us. Something had shifted, and I knew that he could feel it too. If I was at all a good person, I would have been sorry for what I said. There was no need to say it; no need to make Carlisle uncomfortable. But I couldn't help it. Something had been screaming inside me to say it. It was as if the words were building up along with a shout at the back of my throat, robbing me of breath, and I could either say nothing and choke, or speak and risk everything.

I guess I have always been a risk taker.

And isn't that true? At my very core, am I not totally crazy and messed up? I mean really, what kind of girl finds out she is surrounded by vampires and doesn't run away screaming? Maybe Buffy, but that's it.

No other person in the world would want to cozy up to a vampire, vegetarian or not. And now, if I was being honest with myself, I wanted to cozy up to another. The previous vampire boy's surrogate father. Yeah, there should be a special place for crazy perverts like me.

What was it about Carlisle Cullen? I mean, yeah, he was as sexy as sin and the single most beautiful man I had ever seen, or would ever see. Okay, and he was amazingly compassionate and he was a doctor, not because he needed the money but because he wanted to help people. Then there was the fact that he was endlessly interesting and had a million stories to tell about his past, the things he had done and seen. And he was the kindest, funniest, sweetest man I had ever known. But beyond all that, what was so great about him?

I sighed, resting my forehead against the glass of the passenger side window. Damn, he was utterly perfect. What the hell was I supposed to do with that? Ignoring the obvious elephant in the room that was Esme, I simply could not do perfection.

My whole life I had been the opposite of the perfect girl. I was the clumsy, awkward, dark one. I was the one parents worried over because she wasn't friendly enough and didn't get invited to all the birthday parties. I was the one who suffered through ballet, but completely failed at it. I had taken care of my parents for years, but no one took care of me. In very short, I was a mess. And Carlisle Cullen was the epitome of perfection. Yeah, this was never going to happen.

But tell that to my traitorous heart.

And yet, for all that I must have made him uncomfortable, he hadn't removed his hand. His lovely, smooth as marble, chilled hand still remained interlocked with my own. That had to count for something right? Was it, as I wished, a signal that he too felt this inexorable pull between us? I had been silly before when I compared him to one of my heroes come to life, but really, wasn't that exactly what he felt like? He was Darcy to my Lizzy, Heathcliff to my Cathy, Rochester to my Jane…or at least I wished he was. It was pure vanity to believe that such a conclusion would happen between us, but I realized now that I wished for it with all my heart.

My dream wasn't purely about my desire for his body, I was sure of that. It was also about my desire for_ him._ His heart, his wishes, his joys…I wished for them to all be tied up in me, as mine were all tied up in him. I wanted him to need me, just as surely as I needed him. I was vulnerable to him in a way that I hadn't allowed myself to be vulnerable in a long while. I couldn't even remember if I had been this open with Edward. Surely not. I felt as though I needed him, I tied my existence to his, but never had I felt secure in him. That was what I wanted from Carlisle. As secure as I was in our friendship, I wanted more.

I must have been very involved within my thoughts, for I didn't even notice when we slowed to a stop and turned off the car. Turning my head from side to side, I frowned as I saw nothing but trees. They were nothing but a wall in front of us, stopping the car from going any farther. "Where are we?"

"My house," Carlisle said quietly.

My breathing shuddered for a moment. All my hopes welled to the surface, and I prayed that he couldn't smell my excitement. Forcing myself to speak with a calm I did not feel, I said, "Where?"

"Through the trees," was the oblique answer I received.

Breaking hands, we stepped out of the car. The sun was creeping down in the sky, occasionally hidden by clouds. In the low light, I could see the intensity of the expression on his face. Something was troubling Carlisle, but I didn't know what it could be. "This way," he said, taking my hand again. He led me through a labyrinth of trees, ducking and shifting through the smallest spaces. This continued on for a while, and had I been a less trusting person I would have thought Carlisle was taking me in the forest to eat me. His Big Bad Wolf to my Little Red Riding Hood.

Panting, I asked, "Don't you have a driveway up to your house?"

"I do," he replied, "But I wanted you to get the full effect."

"What eff…" My words trailed off. Standing before me was one of the most beautiful houses that I had ever seen. It was three stories, made of red brick with white columns. It was built in the Victorian style, but there was Georgian influence as well. It reminded me of an English country house that you would see in a Jane Austen adaptation on BBC America. I half expected Emma Woodhouse and Mr. Knightly to walk out onto the porch, the letter from Frank Churchill in Emma's hand.

As if he could read my mind, Carlisle said, "This house was stuck in the 19th Century when I bought it. There was no indoor plumbing, heating, or electricity of any kind. I spent August working on everything. I had to fix the pipes, wire the house for electricity, install solar panels, and cable and wifi too." He grinned ruefully. "It was a fun challenge though. And it certainly kept me busy. I'm still finishing up the roof in my free time."

I was instantly charmed by the boyish look on his face. He already looked young, but with him grinning at me like that I could suddenly imagine the way he was when he was a boy, in stockings, pantaloons, and a doublet.

He made a motion with his hand and then grinned at me, "Come into my parlor."

I laughed at the quotation and answered back pertly, "Said the spider to the fly."

He chuckled, and led me in.

Immediately, I felt myself once again in that Jane Austen adaptation. The house was full of antique furniture which looked like it all belonged in that same English manor house. The landscapes on the walls were of English places and subjects, by English artists. I had the sudden urge to ask him if he was homesick, but said nothing. Carlisle led me from the living room to the study, to the dining room, to the conservatory, before finally stopping in the library. I smiled when I stepped into the room. The shelves stretched from the floor to the ceiling, filled to overflowing with priceless books that had been lovingly collected over the years. I was immediately overwhelmed and reminded of Forks.

I remembered a hot and humid summer afternoon, and I was once again seventeen.

"Found anything?"

I turned with surprise, dropping the book that was in my hand. With vampire speed, Carlisle came to my side and plucked the book from the air before it could touch the floor and break its binding. Uneasy, a blush heated my cheeks when I thought of how I had nearly ruined a priceless artifact. "Sorry," I mumbled, looking down at my cast-encased foot. "You startled me."

"Sorry about that," Carlisle said with an easy smile. "I shan't do it again." Glancing at the book he now held in his hand, he raised an eyebrow. "_The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam_? Ah, the first FitzGerald edition. You are much better off with the Emami version," he said, plucking a book off the shelf for me. "It might not be as old and in such pretty binding, but it is a better translation of the text."

"Is it?" I murmured, my embarrassment still with me.

"Yes," Carlisle murmured. "It's beautiful."

Looking up into Carlisle's eyes at that moment, which were now so thoughtful and concentrated, I lost the thread of our conversation.

"Bella?"

Startled out of my memories of his library in Forks, I turned to Carlisle and smiled slightly. "Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts." Stepping away from him, I walked towards his shelves, perusing the books that I had loved and missed in our time apart.

Carlisle laughed, causing me to turn towards him.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It's just…some things never change, do they?" He laughed again. "In Forks, if ever you couldn't be found with Edward, there you were in my study, looking over the books like they were long, lost loves."

I smiled at him, mostly because I knew he was laughing at the symmetry and constancy of my actions, and not at my love for books. Carlisle would never do that. "Are you implying, sir, that I am predictable?"

"Just a touch," Carlisle said softly. "You haven't changed, not where it really counts."

"No," I agreed. "My spirit may have changed, but my soul never could. The things I want have not altered."

His eyes suddenly shifted to mine, all traces of humor gone from his face. "Bella," he sighed.

There was so much purpose in his exhalation that I grew nervous. "What? What's wrong?"

He turned away, and I wanted so badly to grab his arm and force him to look at me once more. I had within me the desperate urge to see his eyes. "Are you saying that certain…hopes, certain wishes…are what they once were?"

"I don't understand," I said. "Are you asking about Edward, because I already told you…"

"No, not Edward," he said softly. He turned back then and I was immediately struck by the intensity in his dark ochre eyes. It was as if all the emotion in the world was building in their depths. "I meant, do you still want…"

His voice trailed off, but I understood his meaning. There was the eternal question. Literally. Did I still want to be a vampire? I was silent for long moments, considering that question. Before, I had wanted to be like them so that I could be with Edward for always, but that wasn't the real reason, was it? No, if I was honest with myself I would have to say that it wasn't just Edward I was drawn to. It was them, what they were and how they lived. Their ease, their movement. I envied and desired their lives, the chance of living without limits. To be free of all that held me back as a human. Edward was just a lovely bonus. But here, standing before me, was a better one. Carlisle, and the possibility of eternity near him. I knew my answer.

"Yes," I whispered.

"No," he immediately answered. "You don't know what you are asking."

I laughed bitterly. "Wow, that whole condescending vampire thing doesn't get easier no matter how many times you hear it. Same tone, same words, just a different vampire saying them."

"This isn't a joke, Bella," Carlisle said sternly. "I don't know what conversations you had with Edward regarding being changed. He and I talked about it a little, but he never really told me what your mutual issues were. But this is me, here and now, and I am the one saying I won't do it. _I can't._" He sounded agonized, but I didn't understand.

"Good God, why?" I burst out. I could feel myself getting angry, angry in a way I hadn't been for years, maybe ever. "What is so repulsive about me that neither you nor Edward wanted to make me into a vampire? Am I so horrible that you couldn't imagine having me in your life for the long term? I thought we were friends. I thought that you cared about me!"

"I did," he said. "I do. But not like this; not this way."

"Then what way?" I yelled. "How is it that you can change Edward, and Esme, and Rosalie, and Emmett when they didn't have a choice, and yet here I am, standing in front of you, begging to be changed, and you won't even consider it?"

"It's like you said," he whispered softly, turning his face so that I could only see his profile. "They didn't have a choice, you do. God Bella, do you think that there is anything I wouldn't do to be standing where you are with all the choices of the world in front of me?" He suddenly struck me as a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I felt a momentary twinge of guilt for adding to that burden, but my anger soon pushed that away.

"But you said you didn't regret it," I cajoled, my voice sounding vaguely like pleading.

"I don't regret all that has happened," Carlisle affirmed, "but that isn't to say that if I had the choice before me now that I wouldn't make a different one. If I was still human…the world would be open to me, as it is now to you. You can't know how wearying it is, Bella, to watch the centuries pass you by. To see decades pass like years, and centuries pass like decades is something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. To be forever outside of time; to never belong. Always hiding, always moving for fear that we have been discovered." He turned then, his eyes met mine and seemed to be pleading with me to listen. "Bella, you don't know how much I wish that I could keep you with me for always. But I won't, I can't, hurt you like that. Please don't ask me to."

And there it was. The truth. So he had felt it too, I knew he had. He wanted me as much as I wanted him, he just wouldn't take the path that would allow it to happen.

I was about to respond with an angry retort when I looked and saw his face. He said he wouldn't do it, that he didn't want it…but all his words were belied by the expression of desperation on his face.

"Why did you bring me here? To your house?" I asked, my voice low.

"I don't know."

His hands were clenching and unclenching, as if he wished to clutch me or grab hold of my hands. I felt the power I had over him in that moment, and the power he held over me too. Stepping forward, I walked slowly to him, only stopping when we were inches apart. Our bodies were a mere hairsbreadth away from each other, and I could almost feel the icy chill of his skin. Slowly, so as not to startle him, I lifted my hands and rested them on the broad slabs of his chest. There was no heartbeat beneath my fingers, yet I was not disturbed by it. My fingers did not stay idle, but slowly moved up over the soft fabric of his sweater so that they encircled his neck. Touching that cool skin, tangling his golden hair in my fingers, I finally looked up.

What I saw in his face took my breath away. He was holding himself perfectly still—a natural state for a vampire—but it seemed completely wrong. This wasn't his natural otherworldliness, but rather a forced motionlessness. His eyes though, his eyes were fixed intently on mine, pupils wide, without anything else claiming their gaze. My thoughts were a whirl, but I knew I had to force myself to speak. I had to be understood, _and_ to make him understand.

"You wouldn't be hurting me," I finally whispered, closing my eyes before opening them again to his view. "It wouldn't have to be like that. We could be together, however you want. You can't be oblivious to my feelings; your vampire senses must have long ago revealed them to you." His eyes flared with surprise, and I wondered if I hadn't been as obvious as I thought. The momentary panic that filled me at that admission was pushed aside so that I could focus, more clearly, on Carlisle. "We can take whatever step you want. We could be friends for always, or lovers instead. I could join you. You wouldn't have to be alone anymore. Neither of us would have to be alone ever again."

I didn't know where this courage was coming from or where I got the strength to talk about things that I had never done before, but it was there in my heart and I was giving it a voice.

His hand came up to my arm, and I thought briefly that he would push me away, but instead he began to gently stroke his index finger up and down the smooth skin of my inner arm. Our eyes were locked together, and I stepped forward so that we were pressing together, belly to belly. I felt him harden against my stomach and my insides fluttered at the happy knowledge that I wasn't alone, that he wanted me too, and that I had been right to think so. "We could have a lovely little life," I whispered.

Carlisle's face moved closer to mine, so close that I could feel his frosty breath upon my nose. His eyes had blackened, not from hunger but something else entirely. Want and need was palpable in the air between and around us, and I could feel something within me urging me on, faster and faster. I leaned in and the movement was echoed by him. My heart felt heavy in my chest, and I could feel the blood in my veins singing. I was half agony, half hope. I wanted this. I needed this. With him.

We were moments away from our crisis; it was upon us. I could almost anticipate how it would feel as he ducked his head—when suddenly he thrust me away from him.

"No!" he exclaimed, his voice breaking. "Not like this."

He was silent for a long moment, but then he took a step back, breaking all contact between our bodies. His eyes, so full of desire and longing moments before, looked haunted. I was thinking of nothing but the feel of him and his lips, but it was obvious his mind had taken a turn in a different direction.

He said suddenly, "What about children? Would you give that up?" His voice sounded raspy, as if he was sick from a cold or just waking up in the morning. It was so human of him that I unconsciously took a tiny step forward. Either he didn't see my movement or chose to ignore it, for he continued, "I know you want them, Bella, you loved telling me about working with them that summer as a lifeguard and about your class. You were meant to be a mom. Are you just going to give that cherished wish up for me, and never look back? I couldn't give you biological ones, and we couldn't adopt because they would figure out what I am and would have to be turned. _Whether they wanted it or not_. My life isn't just eternal years and ease to live as you wish."

His voice was desperate now, and every word cut me to the core. "It is a struggle, every day. It took me hundreds of years until I could be a doctor. Hundreds of years of watching, from a distance, as everyone I ever knew and loved grew old and died. Hundreds of years of not being able to be around humans for fear that I would hurt one, either with my hunger or with my unintentional strength. Jasper has been a vampire for a hundred and fifty years, and he still struggles. You look at me and you only see the good, the possibilities. But I have had time and distance, and I know the pain, and the misery, and the heartache, and the loneliness that comes along with this existence. It's hard, and it's constant, and it is enduring, even when one might wish it was not." His eyes were fraught with emotion. "It doesn't end, Bella."

My heart already felt as though it was breaking, but he dug the proverbial knife further. "Are you ready to fake your death? To allow Renee, Charlie, Phil, and everyone who has ever known you to mourn for you, knowing that you could have prevented their sorrow?" Shame crossed Carlisle's face, and he looked down. "I'm sorry that this happened to you, Bella. I am sorry that you ever discovered us. There are rules for a reason. They are there to protect you from this very conversation. To protect you from the choice you seem so eager to make. But that's the truth of it. You have a choice, Bella. It's yours alone, and no one can take it from you. But honestly Bella, in all earnestness, you don't have the slightest idea what you are asking for. You are nothing but a little girl, standing on the edge of a precipice, ready to jump off but having no way to fly."

He looked at me, his feelings in every word. "But I'll change you," he said. "Right now. If you think you're ready, if you think you know everything there is to know, if you are so absolutely sick of living and breathing with real people, if there is nothing else you think is worth living for, then I'll do it. I shall give you the death you are asking for."

I felt as though my heart was breaking. His words, which cut me to the quick, were all the more hurtful for their honesty. Carlisle was right, and that was what hurt the most. What about my family? What about children? Looking at Carlisle, I could see that his face was lined with sorrow and shame as he observed the tears that were streaming unchecked down my face. He knew that this would happen, once I thought about it. He knew that I hadn't really given a thought to the consequences. He could have kissed me, and taken me, and made me like him and I never would have protested. And I would have lost so much. But he prevented that. It was true; I wanted children. My wants and desires had changed over the years. I was a different girl than the one who had once loved Edward. And, in all honesty, I was twenty-three and… just simply not quite ready for my life to be over. Not just yet.

I took a step back.

Carlisle saw my answer in my action, for his eyes, which had been so sorrowful before, flashed momentarily, and then were blank of emotion.

Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out his keys and held them out to me. "You should go," he said. "Take my car, and I will pick it up in the morning."

I said nothing. What more was there to say? He knew me better than I knew myself, and I felt ashamed at that. I offered him something I wasn't ready to follow up on. It was cruel, and I was never cruel. I wanted to apologize, to beg his forgiveness, but I sensed there was nothing I could say to take back the pain I inflicted on the one man I would die before intentionally hurting.

So, I simply took the keys out of his outstretched hand and left the room. As I stepped out of the house into the cool night air, I noticed it was dark outside. The twilight had come and gone, and I had missed it. For some reason, that made a sob well up in my throat and the tears fall harder. Walking to the edge of the tree line, I looked back at the house I had loved the moment I saw it. It was visible, even in the darkness, and light was glowing out some of the downstairs windows. But instead of that light being a beacon welcoming me home, I had to turn my face towards the darkness.

All the way back to my house, in that elegant car that I couldn't enjoy driving because I was so miserable, I kept repeating the phrase _wrong, wrong, wrong_, over and over in my head. I knew, without asking Alice or anyone who could see the future, that this was not how it was supposed to be. I thought back to my earlier conversation with Carlisle, the one before everything got blown to hell, and knew now that I would take back this conversation if I could. I would do anything to prevent myself from losing him; from seeing his eyes shutter themselves against me as I watched. It might sound fanciful, but I couldn't help but feel as though I had lost something that could never be reclaimed.

When I woke up the next morning, the only car in my driveway was my own and there was no evidence that Carlisle had ever been there at all.

* * *

_There is a quote from Persuasion in here, slightly altered, in the line "__I was half agony, half hope_"_. I need to give a huge thank you to the lovely ladies over at Altered Lions and Sacrificial Lambs, who gave me such lovely reviews and recs on their website. I totally don't deserve it, but it was appreciated nonetheless. Be sure to Google their website and check it out!_

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	9. Part I: Of Conclusions and Confidences

_The water of the Gulf stretched out before her, gleaming with the million lights of the sun. The voice of the sea is seductive, never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander in abysses of solitude. All along the white beach, up and down, there was no living thing in sight. A bird with a broken wing was beating the air above, reeling, fluttering, circling disabled down, down to the water._

_— The Awakening, Kate Chopin_

* * *

_The mind is its own place, and in itself  
Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n._

—_ Paradise Lost, John Milton_

* * *

_Chapter Nine – Of Conclusions and Confidences_

_BPOV_

If I close my eyes and let my mind go, I can still remember the first time I saw the ocean. La Push wasn't the first beach I ever went to, mostly because I didn't start going to visit my dad in Forks until I was five, just before I moved to Arizona. But when I was a child, and still lived in Riverside, California, my mom used to take these trips down to Corona del Mar. There was this trendy jewelry shop that she liked to shop and barter her homemade jewelry in—it was one of _those_ phases—but she always took me to the beach after she was done. There were two public beaches near her favorite shop. One was the larger public one that had parking and a snackbar, the other was the smaller one that you had to park on the bluffs to visit. Of course, my mom liked the smaller one, though secretly I did too.

Little Corona had the waves and the salt and the sea, but it was so much more than that. To get there, you had to walk down a steep and winding hill and then trek across a large dune. The beach itself was isolated in the protection of steep cliffs and heavy rocks, which the surf crashed against in a commanding, but discordant, staccato rhythm. One large rock in particular stuck up from the water and was often a perch for sea lions and seagulls to rest upon. But my all time favorite part of that little beach was the tide pools which were on either side of the small enclosure. With my rubber-soled sandals, I used to climb all over the rocks, poking the sea anemones and inspecting the occasional starfish. I remember that my mother dressed me in a bright pink polka dot suit that had ruffles on the bottom, and I used to plop myself in some of the larger pools and let the tiny hermit crabs climb over my toes.

I remember my delight when I went to First Beach for the first time and I realized that it had tide pools too. Of course by then any natural grace I had as a tiny child was replaced with clumsy movements and awkward limbs. I fell in…a lot. But the pools never lost their charm, and as I result I never lost my love of the ocean.

It calls to me now, the same as it always did. And it soothes me now, just as it did when I was a child and even later when I was so lost and in need of soothing.

Visiting the ocean was the first thing I did when I arrived in Jacksonville.

There was a strange sense of urgency that filled me the day after I left Carlisle's home. I had stayed up late, replaying our conversation over and over until I had the words memorized. Every time I thought of my actions, and what I had confessed, a blush overcame my cheeks and I felt very young. When I was a teenager, it was easy to believe that Carlisle was the man in his thirties that he was pretending to be. He had that calm about him; that experience in his eyes that only comes from living. I found out later, of course, that it was from centuries alive, not years. But for some reason, since I had seen him again, I had forgotten that gulf that once was between us. I felt his equal. For the first time, I saw myself as the adult I was.

But the previous night had taken away that confidence. Not by him, but by my own part. He said nothing that was not necessary for me to hear, and yet I wish that it had never been said. I felt so young when he enumerated all the things I had not thought of. He had not been condescending, and yet I felt condescended to all the same.

And I tried desperately not to think of the confession I had made. Every time I did, I suddenly began to feel overheated and extremely lightheaded. What must he think of me? To make such a claim, all the while throwing myself at him. No, there could be no reproofs more strident than my own. My own fervent imagination was the worst sort of punishment.

And boy, could I imagine.

I couldn't face him. Maybe it was the coward's way out, but for the first time in six weeks, I didn't meet him at Dottie's the next morning. I couldn't contemplate seeing him again without shuddering in embarrassment. So instead I did what I do best: I ran. After teaching one full day, I took two vacation days and left for Jacksonville. It was going to be Thanksgiving on Thursday anyway, so I wouldn't be missing that much work. I hadn't planned on going home for the holidays, but now it seemed like the perfect excuse to get away and get my head on straight.

I arrived in Jacksonville International to little fanfare. I had texted my Mom to tell her I was coming, but I told her not to bother picking me up. Instead, I caught a cab. The sticking humidity of Florida cloyed all around me the moment I left the safety of the airport. I sighed at the familiar feeling and went to the line of taxies. Once I chucked my overnight bag in the trunk, I settled back into the seat and gave the driver my mom's address in Jacksonville Beach. Within twenty minutes, we were pulling in front of my mom's beach house.

Our house—or hers really—was set just off the beach. It was part of a string of adjacent beach shacks that had probably been put up during the Roaring Twenties and never torn down to make way for something better. My mom liked to complain about the faulty wiring and the permanent damp smell, but I loved it. The house had character, and my favorite part was the wraparound enclosed porch. When I lived there during my senior year, I never really appreciated how beautiful it was. I spent my time staring out my bedroom window listening for the crash of the waves and the salted air to fill my nostrils, but I never saw the beauty in the very house in which I sat.

After paying the cabbie and getting my bag, I turned towards the bungalow and beamed as my mom stepped out on the stoop. "Hey, Renée," I said, smiling widely at the mere sight of her.

"Hey, hon," she returned, coming forward and pulling me into a crushing hug. "You are so skinny! I could snap you like a chicken!"

Great, two minutes home and my mom is already whipping out the _My Big Fat Greek Wedding _quotes. It was one of the movies we watched during my recovery from the zombie period, and she loved it way more than could possibly be healthy.

"Come on, let's get inside. We are going to have so much fun this weekend! I have missed you so much!"

"I've missed you too, Mom," I said with a smile. Funny thing was, I had. Sure, she wasn't the most reliable or stable of people, but now that I no longer needed her to be a mother to me in the day to day, I could finally appreciate her wild spirit.

I dropped my bag in the front hall before we moved inside to the kitchen, through the covered porch, and out the back door. We both kicked off our shoes at the bottom of the steps, walking hand in hand down the sandy path to the dunes. "So," she said, after we were a long distance away from the house. "Tell me everything. Preferably starting with how the small town bores you to tears and you are moving back to Jacksonville pronto."

I grinned at Renée, enjoying her infectious enthusiasm. "Sorry, no dice. I like where I am. Like the kids; like the area."

"Hmm," my mom said, as if I had just said something suspicious. "What about the people your age?"

I immediately thought of Carlisle and the evenings he had spent over at my house.

I blushed.

God only knows why, and if I could have kicked my own rear I would have. I hadn't been that easy to blush in years and now one thought of Carlisle sends blood to my face? Jeez, I was pathetic.

Of course, this set my mom of like a bloodhound in search of its quarry. "Oh my goodness, who is he? Tell me everything!"

"It's no one, Renée, really. I mean, nothing is happening. He is just a nice man that I have met." I laughed. "But please, he is _so_ not interested in me in _that_ way. Believe me, it is clear."

She looked at me with a skeptical look on her face but, to my shock, she let it lie.

The next several days made me feel like I was a kid again. Phil was out of town on a job interview for a coaching job in Monterey, his playing days were rapidly coming to an end, making me doubly glad that I had come to see my mom. She never did do well alone. She usually curled into a ball or started some new weird hobby. So instead of letting her start another failed ceramics course, we spent time together. We walked on the beach repeatedly, we went to the movies, we ate out at fancy restaurants (Thanksgiving dinner at Chez Louis was especially good), and through it all I started to feel like I had gotten my mom back, the way she was before I jumped off the deep end of crazy in Forks. Except she wasn't the woman I remembered. She was infinitely better and different. She hadn't changed in fundamentals, but she was calmer at times, more relaxed. She seemed to have maintained a more parental role towards me, which was surprising to see.

I had spent the majority of my life taking care of my mother; seeing her as the child and being the parent. I was never fair to her, and I could never fully appreciate all that she was until she saved me when Edward left. Her presence was such a soothing balm to me that year, and in the end she rescued me from that part of myself that wanted to just give up and let go. It pains me to think that if she hadn't pulled me out of my malaise, that I would have gone off and lived my life forever thinking her to be a weak and flighty woman. But just as I could not be defined by one thing alone, neither could my mother.

As a result, it was healing for me to be near her. Sort of like all those wounds from childhood were starting to scab over.

My mom and I seemed to finally be in a place where neither of us had to carry the other.

It was nice. Different, sure, but nice all the same. She might always be my mother, but I no longer needed her and I think she felt the same way. The ties that had once bound us ever so tightly were finally beginning to dissolve, one by one. I felt relieved to know that, if anything ever happened to me, she would be okay.

On the last night of my trip, I left my mother watching television and quietly let myself out the back door of the porch. Standing on the top step, I took a deep breath of moist air before I walked down to the beach. Toeing my shoes off on the cold sand, I walked down to the water's edge and let myself wash in and out with the tide. The sea never went above my calves, but it was soothing in a way that I hadn't realized I missed. Looking out into the inky dark expanse of sea and sky, I could see the lights of the city proper in the distance, along with the boardwalk. I could also see the twinkling glimmer of houses further down the beach and the stars shining overhead. The only sound I could hear was the familiar pull and crash of the sea, and I let its rhythm lull me into a state of relaxation.

For so much of my life I had felt like the sea, being pulled back and forth, in and out, by the tides of orbiting planets. Whether it was between two fighting parents or between a normal world and a supernatural one, there was always something dictating my movements.

But I hadn't felt like that recently. Not for months. And I was too sure of my feelings to not know what that meant. There, in that solemn night, I could be totally honest with myself.

I loved him.

I, Bella Swan, loved him, Carlisle Cullen.

It was as simple as that. It wasn't a crush, and it surely wasn't passing. It was real and it was strong and it was mine. He wasn't Edward and he wouldn't hurt me to save me. I knew, somehow without him even telling me, that he said those things that night in his library in order to make me look at what I was really asking for. Carlisle didn't mean them to hurt me or to scare me, but I _had_ to know. And he was right in that I hadn't fully appreciated all that I would be giving up.

When I was a teenager, it was easy to say that I didn't want or need children and that I was ready for eternity with one boy—the only boy I had ever dated. But would I have been right? What if they hadn't been able to stop the change that night in the studio? Would I have been happy, being forever a teenager and giving up all the things I couldn't get back? And Edward, would I have loved him forever, or would I have looked at him one day, thirty years down the line, with a feeling of dread in my stomach when I realized I didn't know him at all?

Now though, I wasn't that young girl anymore. I had lived in a world beyond curfews, allowances, and chores. I had set out on my own, and lived my own life. I had a mortgage and bills and responsibilities now. As such, I couldn't look at the idea of changing into a vampire with the same rose-colored glasses I once had. And to really think about it meant accepting one fundamental truth: to become a vampire meant I had to die.

There was no halfway, no compromise. I would lose Charlie, Renée, Phil, and every other person who ever meant something to me. There would be no more teaching—not for several decades at least—and I would never taste food again. My memories might fade, along with faces of people drawn and etched across my mind that I never wanted to lose. I would lose the sweet release of dreams and replace it with the ever steady marching of meaningless time. I would lose the ability to have children, along with the beat of my heart. I would become better, stronger, faster…but I would share my body with an almost unquenchable thirst for hundreds of years at least. And if I slipped, if I lost control for even one moment…I would be a murderer.

It wasn't a small decision, and for once I felt pity for Edward. My cavalier attitude must have driven him insane. He was still in the wrong for what he did in leaving but, for once, I could see his side of it as well.

Why had I been so eager to die back then?

Did I have the same eagerness now?

My eyes were closed as I tried to stretch my mind out to the future. I tried to picture my life; what I wanted, and what I thought would happen. I tried to see myself without Carlisle. With children and a normal husband who worked nine to five and watched football on Mondays. I tried to see myself growing older, attending funerals for my parents and marking time by the candles added to my birthday cakes and the wrinkles on my face. I tried to see a future that Edward had once claimed he wanted for me, one I once thought I wanted for myself. I tried to see it…but I couldn't.

Instead I saw myself, twenty years from now, returning to this very beach with Carlisle. I saw him holding my cold hand as we walked silently in the darkness. Together.

My eyes shot open.

"You okay?"

I turned my torso to see my mother standing just behind me, looking at me with an indefinable expression on her face. "Yeah, I'm fine," I told her. "Just thinking."

"You've been doing a lot of that."

I cocked my head to the side.

"Thinking, I mean," she clarified. "I have come across you several times in the last few days and you have just been staring off into space."

"Lot on my mind, I guess," I murmured.

Renée moved so that she was standing next to me and the water could rush across her feet too. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No," I replied honestly. "This trip has been plenty of help. It was nice to come down here, see you again. It was really important to me that I did, you know? I mean, I saw Charlie during the summer and now I got a chance to see you. I love you, Mom."

"Bella? You're scaring me," my mom said, her voice trembling slightly. "It feels like you are saying goodbye."

"Not goodbye, Renée," I replied, impulsively reaching out and hugging her tightly. "It's never really goodbye between us."

"Oh, honey," she whispered, clutching me tighter.

"I never did thank you, did I?"

"Thank me for what, sweetheart?"

"For saving my life," I whispered. Pulling back slightly, I looked her square in the face. It was amazing how much of my mother I could see in my own features now that I had gotten older. I had aged into the beauty she had always possessed.

Clearing my throat, I said, "I don't mean physically. I mean, I was living, wasn't I? But emotionally. I was a black hole of misery and you pulled me out of it. And I can't remember if I ever thanked you for that. So…thank you, Renée. You saved me in all the ways that matter."

"Oh, honey," she whispered. Tears filled her eyes; lovely green eyes that I had always been jealous of. "I'd do anything for you. You know that, right? I mean I know I wasn't the best in the terms of motherhood—"

"Renée—"

She held up her hand. "No, you don't need to sugarcoat or deny it. I wanted to be for you what I always wanted and never received from my own mother: a friend. I thought that my daughter would be just as free living and free spirited as I was. It took me a long time to own up to the fact that I did everything for you but the things you needed. You were the mom a lot of the time, and I am so sorry for that." She took a shuddering breath and cupped my face. Her hands were cold; cold like Carlisle's.

I shivered as the crashing waves beat time with my heart.

"Those months you lived here with Charlie gave me a lot of time to think," she continued, "but it was only after you had your…issues and came to live in Jacksonville that I realized the true extent of what I did to you. I never taught you all the things that daughters need to learn from their mothers. I didn't teach you to value yourself first. I was such a taker and a needy person, and you just gave and gave. What I didn't realize was that you did that with everyone else too. You gave away a piece of yourself to anyone and everyone. Is it any surprise that your first brush with love ended the way it did? What happened with that boy was unfortunate, but I can't help but think that it wouldn't have happened if I had taught you that no one can take your spirit from you unless you let them. I am so sorry, Bella."

Great, I was crying. My mother had reduced me to a sniveling wreck. I hadn't seen her this sincere and serious in years, and I didn't know what was bringing it out of her now. "Renée," I began.

She held up her hand. "You don't need to say anything, honey. I know my shortcomings, and they are freakin' numerous. That is not why I bring this up. I am telling you this now because I want you to know that I don't need or deserve your thanks. I really did nothing in the end."

My brow furrowed. "That's not true. The things you said—"

"Would have meant nothing if you weren't ready to hear them," she finished my sentence. "Don't you see, Isabella? You saved _yourself_. You have always been the strong one and you have always known what you want. Because of me you had to learn to take care of your own needs, and I am sorry for that, but it has made you into this incredibly amazing woman who follows her own path. I might have taught you to be independent through my faults, but Bella, it is you who took it to heart. God, the things you have done! Studying abroad, learning French, traveling…that is all you. No matter what you do, no matter what happens, I _know_ you will be okay."

For some reason, right then I felt about five years old. So I put my head on my mother's shoulder and whispered, "I love you, Mommy."

"I love you too, baby," she whispered back. Then, she met my eyes and murmured, "Just promise me one thing."

"Okay."

"Promise me that you will let someone in again. Love is…well, at the risk of sounding incredibly cheesy…it's a gift, Bella. Maybe this new guy is the right one, maybe not. But I would hate for you to miss out on it because you were scared." She looked down at my hand which was unconsciously rubbing the raised flesh that James had left behind. "Scared or scarred," she added.

There was nothing I could say to her. Nothing that hadn't already been said, that is. So I told her the truth. "I promise."

It was one promise I had already kept and would continue on keeping.

She left me by the ocean, staring after her departing form. I stood there for several more minutes before turning to go, only then noticing that my ankles had been swallowed by the surf and the sand. I pulled my feet out one by one, walking a step away so that the incoming tide could wash them off. Taking one last deep breath, I turned and headed back to the house. First I would go to the house, tomorrow I would go to the airport, and then the day after that I would go to find Carlisle.

It was time for me to go home.

To leave the beach and the sun, trading it for the forests and the snow and the night.

I had made my choice, and now it was time for him to know it.

The sea may be lovely, dark and deep, but I had promises to keep. Along with endless miles to go before I would sleep.

* * *

_CPOV_

Stepping into my father's room, I found him kneeling under the window. A single tapered candle was lit on the corner table. The room was sparsely furnished and decorated, insuring that no distractions would come between my father and God. I observed his still and solemn form for a moment—his back hunched over in worship, with his wrinkled hands clutching the Book of Common Prayer—and turned to leave. But before I could exit silently, the thrushes crunched and snapped under my booted foot, alerting my father to my presence.

"Carlisle, be that you?"

"Aye, Father," I replied dutifully. "I have come to take my leave. The men are preparing; it shall not be 'ere long now." I wanted so badly to end the distance between us, yet I knew not how. I tried, instead, to calm myself with Scripture. _Blessed __are__ the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God_.

"Come closer," my father said, standing from his position. I walked over to him and stopped only once I was within arm's length. His sight had begun to fail him recently, though it was only distances that gave him trouble. I mourned the way he looked at me, with such a mixture of distaste and dissatisfaction. There was disappointment in his every glance. "Is everything in readiness?" he asked.

"Aye, Father. We only await nightfall."

"This is well," he replied. His shrewd eyes then observed me, raking his gaze from my booted feet to the cloak that adorned my shoulders. "What can be the matter, child? Thy hands are shaking."

"I…Do you think we are acting shrewdly, Father?" The words felt heavy and thick in my throat. I sought again to find comfort in recitation. _Blessed __are__ the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven_.

"To what dost thou refer, my son?"

"This hunting, this quest. Ought we not spend our time tending to our parish and those wretched ones who need our help?"

"We are doing the Lord's work, Carlisle," my father growled. His voice had not lost its ability to order and command with age. If anything, he seemed even better at it.

"Are we?" I dared to ask.

"Thou know'st right well we are," he responded, now glaring at me in earnest.

Usually, I was cowed by his shows of aggression and reserved speech, but there was something in me that night which refused to be silent. "Father, I cannot be the man you do desire me to be. Methinks…it goes against all my principles. The obedience that I owe you has kept me dumb until now, but I cannot, in good conscience, let this continue further. These men and women that we accuse…who are they? Who are their people? What are their crimes? Do their Papist loyalties sate your desire for blood, or to that must they add something more substantial?" _Blessed __are__ they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled_.

Quickly, before I knew what had happened, my father cuffed me across the cheek, scratching my skin and drawing blood with his signet ring. "Mind thy betters, boy! Fie! Think thee so wise, so moral that thou art above doing God's work?"

"Is it the Lord's work Father, or thine?" Stop this, I told myself. _Blessed __are__ the meek: for they shall inherit the earth_.

"I am disappointed in thee, Carlisle."

"And I in you, Father," I replied. Where my boldness was coming from escaped me, but the words seemed to bubble forth without heading any sense of propriety. Keep to a good heart, I reminded myself. _Blessed __are__ the pure in heart: for they shall see God_.

"Tread very carefully, my son. If thou dost not mind thy tongue, 'ere long you might find thyself without a place to rest thy head at night."

"Forgive me," I said, looking downwards. My face stung horribly and I could feel the blood trickling down my cheek, but I did nothing to staunch the flow. That would be seen as a weakness; my father couldn't abide weakness. "I spoke without guarding my tongue. You do speak rightly, of course. It is our Savior's work we do, and it is for that reason that I wish for our actions to be righteous. I do not wish to go to my Maker with unknown sins upon my head." _Blessed __are__ they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake_, I recited, _for theirs is the kingdom of heaven_.

I could visibly see my father calm, so I pushed gently forward. "These men and women, Father…they sometimes die screaming."

"Demons!" he spat. "What dost thou expect?"

"Should not the Devil's henchmen fight back, Father?"

"They know'st we have the Creator at our flank. Ours is the way and the truth and the life."

"And the females, Father? Those we have accused of witchcraft? The last one died screaming for mercy and speaking the Lord's Prayer. If she was a witch, how could she—?

"That in and of itself is proof of her treachery! That Slate woman had a bastard out of wedlock and was heard to speak against the one true Church of England. She served the Devil!" my father spat.

_Blessed are ye, when __men__ shall revile you, and persecute __you,__ and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake_, I remembered. "But if they serve the Devil, shouldn't they—"

"Silence!" my father cut in. "I'll not have this treachery in my own home. Attend me. This is what thou shalt do. Thou wilt go thither tonight and lead the men. Thou wilt find those supernatural creatures thou hast been sent to discover, and thou wilt kill them by thine own hand!"

My horror was complete. "Father, I cannot…"

"I have spoken. Thou _wilt_ obey me."

The memories were so real they almost felt like dreams. Vampires cannot dream. Every immortal knows that. Yet, ever since that night that Bella drove away, my nighttime hours, or any time spent with my eyes closed, are used to relive the worst of my memories. Waking nightmares and conscious dreams. I had been wracked with flashes of my turning, my childhood, and all the empty years in between. Remembrances that had faded with time were now once again as clear as crystal. I could almost feel my father strike my cheek or the hot wax drip upon my left pinky finger as I sealed a letter. It was madness, yet I welcomed it all the same.

Anything to keep my mind off of _her_.

My regret began the moment she left my house. Regret for what I had said, regret for what had passed between us, regret for not guarding my words…but most of all, it was regret for not taking the chance she offered me with both hands and holding on tightly. Because I wanted to turn her into a vampire. Of course I did. I could barely stop my hands from shaking when she had pressed close to me, so close that the scent of her body had flooded my senses and robbed me of my reason.

But, at the end of the day, the man that I am is a sum of more than just my desires. The day I discovered I could survive on animal blood, when I was newly born, I made a silent promise to myself that I would never become base by succumbing to the human blood I craved—I would die first. That promise though, was more than directed to my feeding habits. It was also a code of conduct that I forced myself to live by.

I was more than that which I desired.

For hundreds of years I roamed alone because I could not forever keep company with those who saw no morals or reasons guiding their actions. I made friends, but always kept them distant from my person. Even Liam, who then, before my family, could have been categorized as my dearest friend, was kept a careful distance away. Edward was the beginning and then end of that. Once I had a companion, feelings that I had long denied myself came rushing back to me. The desire to love and be loved was too much of a temptation to resist. I turned Esme with the hope of marriage and love, a wife to take the empty place by my side and be mother to my brother/son. Other family followed, but I always kept true to that promise I made myself. I was above my desires; I could be better than the lowest part of my nature.

But now, one glance, one touch from her heated skin made me forget all that I had once sworn. My desire for Bella could be my undoing if I was not careful. She made me feel alive and human, and being human made me want to be selfish. I wanted to take her and make her mine, knowing full well that she hadn't thought through the decisions to be changed and made into a vampire. I simply wanted…I simply needed…her.

She was my only true desire now.

That first day Bella did not meet me at the diner. I returned the next day hoping for a better result.

It was through the gossip at the small food establishment that I found out that Bella had left to visit her mother for Thanksgiving. I didn't act surprised, and I think that Linda assumed I knew already that she was gone. Though I hid my reaction well, I was, in truth, devastated. The idea that I had caused Bella even the smallest amount of pain was unacceptable to me. And the idea that she had to leave her home in order to flee from my hurtful words was worse. I contemplated calling her several times, but I knew that would satisfy _my_ feelings instead of hers. She had told me that one of the things she hated about Edward's behavior was the way that he took her choices away. I simply refused to act like my wayward son anymore that I already had. It was her choice, her decision. I would not force my company on her if she did not wish it.

Instead I tried to distract myself with the minutia that cluttered my life. Bills, repairs, and refurbishments worked for a time. I also wrote a long letter to Eleazar, talking about my life now and the measure of peace I thought I had achieved. Work was my constant companion, but even that was not enough to distract me in the silent hours. When I was alone in my house—and, oh it was so quiet—I would find myself walking up and down the stairs, or sitting out on the deck for endless hours at a time. It was then that the memories crept up on me. Waking dreams of times long forgotten and feelings I thought I had long since conquered.

My feelings for my father had always been confused and nebulous, but I had thought myself free of them. While memories of our time together saddened me, I thought myself to be beyond the hurt such memories could cause. A part of me wondered if Bella was the cause of my sudden introspection. When I was with her, everything felt closer: my feelings, my thoughts, my past. Being with her was like becoming human again, and it was intoxicating. But with it came the bitter and unsettled memories of my father. I had loved him and tried so hard to please him, but it was never enough. Yet, after I woke to new life, I missed him. His was a face that had been a constant in my life. His was an opinion that I valued, though often disagreed with. In those dark days shortly after my change, it was his disappointment that led me to seek to end my life over and over. I felt that by being what I was, I was letting him down. It was difficult, even hundreds of years later, to describe and understand the complex nature of what I felt for him. He was so much of my foundation, and when I discovered myself to be the thing he abhorred…all that I had ever known was torn asunder.

Yet, for all that, I could not regret that I was once again allowing my thoughts to dwell on him. These past months with Bella had led me closer to my human life than I had ever been since the change.

On the fourth day of Bella's absence from my life, my cell phone rang. Like an idiot, I practically flew across the room to answer it, my voice shaking when I said, "Hello?"

"Carlisle!"

"Rosalie?" I could barely keep the shock and surprise out of my voice. I hadn't heard from her in what felt like forever. "How are you, dear? This is quite the surprise."

"I'm sure," she responded with a pealing laugh. "Do you know what I had to do to get this number?"

"No, not at all," I said, feeling a reluctant smile come to my face. Of all the vampires I had made, Rosalie and I had the strangest relationship. She was sometimes adversarial and resentful, other times she was like a devoted daughter.

"First I tried your old cell phone," she was saying. "Then, when that didn't work, I contacted Alice. It took her a month to return my email! I know they are in India, but really, I simply can't believe that Alice has allowed herself to be so cut off from modern communication."

"I believe there is a trip to Europe at sake," I responded with a fond thought for Alice.

"So I have heard," Rose responded. "I tried the same thing with Emmett, but he was not very receptive."

I laughed. "And how is Emmett? You are both still in Denali, correct?"

"Yes, that's right," she said. "And Emmett is wonderful. He seems to be in heaven here, what with all the wildlife and bears he could ask for."

I smiled at the description of my last child. "I am glad to hear it. Eleazar wrote a little about you both in his last letter, but it was not as detailed as I should have liked."

"To be honest," Rosalie said, "that is part of the reason that I called. When he received your last letter, I began to think of you and how I missed our old family."

"Oh, Rose—"

"No, let me get this out," she spoke. "I was so angry when you let Edward and Esme leave, and even moreso when I heard that you and Esme were no longer together. I know that we have gone our own ways before, but never have Esme and Edward _both_ left. Emmett and I should have come back then, but I…I blamed you for letting our family fall apart. Forgive me."

I suddenly wished I could see her beautiful face. "Of course, Rosalie," I said. "There is nothing to forgive. I am sorry it happened too. The last thing I ever wanted was for us to lose our family."

"Good," she said decisively. "Then you should come to Denali."

"Rosalie—"

"Our extended family is here," she continued on, "and Jasper and Alice have promised to come for a prolonged visit when they return from Europe. If you came then it would be just like it used to be. I am sure that if you called Esme—"

"Rosalie," I said firmly, cutting her off. "Esme and I are not going to get back together. Not ever. You need to let that idea go."

"But you could still come," she said undeterred. She was determined. "I miss you, and I know Emmett does too."

"Oh dearest," I murmured. "I miss you too. I miss all my children."

_Including Edward_, the rebellious thought crept in. I tried to push it away, but once I had thought of him it was next to impossible. Images flooded my head of the young laughing youth that had once kept me company with his soothing melodies and his thoughtful words. I saw him leaving that first time, so full of anger and righteousness. I saw him returning home repentant. I saw the years that followed and the emptiness I feared he was letting consume him. But mostly, I saw everything in between. I saw the laughter on the hunts with his brothers. I saw the occasional unguarded look that would cross his face when he thought no one was watching and he let himself enjoy life. Finally, I saw the quiet joy that surrounded him when he finally found Bella, and the relief I felt in knowing that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't doomed to spend this life alone.

And for the first time I realized that maybe I hadn't been as honest with myself as I had thought. Perhaps I said those things to Bella because a part of me knew what it would mean if I did. If I changed her, if I pursued the relationship with her that I so desperately wanted…I knew that would mean saying goodbye to Edward forever.

_Edward_.

My first companion, my beloved son, my dearest friend.

All the complicated emotions I had carried the past few years melted away when confronted with one inalienable truth: I missed him.

"Say you'll come," Rosalie cajoled. "Carmen said that the grey wolf dens are on the move again."

I sighed. How tempting it would be to go off to Alaska and return to the bosom of my family. To no longer walk my nights alone, to always have companionship on my hunts…I cut off that thought process right there. I was not alone.

I had Bella.

"I can't, dear," I finally said, letting out a very human sigh. "At least not right now. Perhaps I can pay you all a visit next summer."

"Try for sooner," she said in a soft tone I didn't fully recognize. We chatted for nearly another hour before saying goodbye.

I spent the next few days replaying my conversation with Rosalie over and over again. I had to admit that escaping to Denali sounded tempting. I would love to see Eleazar and Carmen again, and Tanya too, let alone Rose and Emmett. But as tempting as it sounded, there was a part of me tied to Calais. I knew, without giving it any conscious thought, that I simply could not leave Bella. There was something tying me to her and it was more than the indecipherable feelings I was having for her. Even if it was mere friendship, I simply knew—_knew _—that she would be a companion for life. I couldn't imagine missing the rest of her human life, long or short as it might be. Not now, not after she had told me that she felt something more for me. Even better if, after she had thought things through, and she still wanted to be changed…the thought was thrilling.

The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that Bella and I needed to sit down and have a rational conversation about this. It simply got too emotional too quickly at my house. For goodness sake, I sounded practically patronizing in my attitude and words. No, what we needed was to really talk this out. I needed to know if Bella could possibly see herself someday joining me, and I prayed to my Maker that the answer was yes. I knew from Linda that Bella was coming home Sunday evening. I would just have to find a way to talk to her on Monday. We could talk about it all again and maybe, just maybe, we could discuss her changing once more.

After all, spending eternity with Bella was an easy thing to imagine.

* * *

_This chapter was so hard to write because there was no C/B interaction, but it needed to be done in my opinion. They both had to come to their conclusions on their own. _

_The last line of Bella's POV is paraphrased from Robert Frost's poem "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". _

_Throughout Carlisle's flashback, I sprinkled bible quotes, most notably the beatitudes, as I have established that Carlisle was just out of Seminary. I used the version from the King James Bible, 1611 version, though with modern spelling. _

_I used some archaic words in Carlisle's flashback, mostly on the part of his father. From what I can tell, there seems to have been a schism during the 1500s to the 1600s as certain language came in and out of fashion. They would have spoken Early Modern English which was characterized by shifting vowel sounds, inconsistent spelling and grammar, and mixed phrases. (As it developed it would become more consistent, but not when Carlisle was living.) Shakespeare, for example, used archaic words sometimes and other times used modern slang. "What's the matter?" was a slang phrase that Shakespeare invented and is now a permanent part of our language. (Seriously, if you are ever in doubt that Shakespeare is the best writer in the history of Man just Google 'Phrases Shakespeare Invented'. It will blow your mind—Catch a cold, naked truth, heart of gold, break the ice, be all and end all, heartsick, fair play—these are just a few examples!). __Paradise Lost__ was published in 1667, the year after Carlisle was turned, and a good example of the blending of modern and older English. Carlisle therefore uses traditional phrases (ex: 'ere long) but common words (you, do…), whereas his father uses both traditional and archaic phrases (ex: what dost thou, thou wilt) and words (thee, thou, thither …). Language was deeply divided and based on social standing and education, and it marked lord from peasant more clearly than clothing. In reality, Carlisle would probably have adopted his father's speech patterns and formal speech but I chose to have him speak in a more common manner. In my head, I can see him spending a good deal of his time in Seminary leaving his studies behind and tending to the poor and sick. Perhaps he picked up some of his ease in language from them people he helped._

_Okay, sorry for the history ramble! Hope you liked the chapter!_

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	10. Part I: Of Confessions and Kisses

_Had we but world enough, and time,  
This coyness, Lady, were no crime  
We would sit down and think which way  
To walk and pass our long love's day…_

_An hundred years should go to praise  
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;  
Two hundred to adore each breast,  
But thirty thousand to the rest;  
An age at least to every part,  
And the last age should show your heart…_

_But at my back I always hear  
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near;  
And yonder all before us lie  
Deserts of vast eternity._

— "_To His Coy Mistress," Andrew Marvell_

* * *

_Chapter Ten – Of Confessions and Kisses_

_CPOV_

In my experience, most people are, at the surface, selfish in the extreme. Be they vampires or mortals, people are people and rarely do they exert themselves if it is not in their best interest. In essence, we are all survivalists. In my many years, I have come to the conclusion that human-drinking vampires surrender more and more to the selfish side of their nature until altruism becomes all but impossible. But this can be true in humans as well. One of the hazards of being a doctor, whether in small towns or large, is that you often come face to face with the worst that humanity has to offer. Pedestrians cut down by drunk drivers, children beaten by their parents, rape victims…it often feels as if all of the emergent cases I see are begun in tragedy, begun in blood.

Edward once asked me why I bothered to work in the hospital. He was of course perplexed by my complete lack of reaction to blood, but further than that he was disgusted by the things that I would see every day. He enjoyed medical school because it was all theoretical, but in practice medicine was extremely distressing to him. His confusion was hard to overcome, though I am sure that I tried to do so in my explanation. The stock answer was that I liked helping people, though he thought that I wanted to atone in part for the destruction my race caused the human one. That was not in any way true, but he never could understand my further thoughts on the subject, and I cannot find fault in that as I could barely understand it myself. Simply put, like everything in life, I just had to decide what to do with what I was given.

There is simply something about the hospital, about the crisis that sickness and death cause. It is often the worst of human nature that send people to my care, but it is often the best of it that I see once those patients are _in_ my care. The desire for self-preservation is strong in the human animal and it is this that I see in those who survive tragedy. Because, in the end, the surface selfishness is not what people are really made of. Underneath that there is almost always goodness, or at least the desire to do good. People are just people, but they can adapt and thrive; make the best of their circumstances. Like them, I was simply one who tried to make the best of what I was given. The ability to survive and live in the face of adversity—that is why I am a doctor, and it is the one thing that Edward could never understand.

And it is the one thing I cherished most about Bella.

Had anyone asked me later, I would have sworn without a doubt that I knew the moment Bella returned to Calais. Sitting on the porch of my house on Sunday night, my head resting on the oak back of my deckchair, I felt as though the wind suddenly shifted. Inhaling deeply, I could almost smell the coming winter and the following spring.

Bella.

She had always smelled like that to me. Like fresh flowers and rain, all the things that I still associated with spring in my human memories. Her hair was like freesia, but her skin was like roses. Not the hybrid bastardized roses of today, but the rich, fragrant ones of my youth. I remember that the perennials that grew in the country then. How sweet their smell was, almost as potent as wild honeysuckle. The day I met Bella in the hospital was like a blow to the gut. When I smelled her for the first time, I know Edward was confused when my mind immediately inundated him with images of Kew Gardens which I visited during my brief return to England in 1801, and the countryside of Greenwich, which I fled to after I was changed. Perhaps he thought I was blocking him, but I wasn't. That was exactly what she reminded me of: classical English gardens in spring.

The oppression of plague and death was so heavy before I was changed, chased quickly by fire and soot and ash that claimed most of the city. When I escaped to the country after I was newly born it was as if I could finally breathe again or perhaps breathe for the first time. My senses were heightened and alive, and the cleanliness of the air was intoxicating. It was then that I developed a fondness for roses, and meeting Bella had made them come to life for me once more.

There, on the deck, I stood and walked to the balustrade. _Soon_, I promised myself. Tomorrow even. I wouldn't go to her this first night, but the moment I could I would see her again.

That moment came the next afternoon.

To my deep regret, I didn't have a shift scheduled that Monday. It would have been a sweet release if I had. Instead, I spent several tormented hours walking to and fro in my home, deciding what I was going to say and rearranging the words in my head. Briefly I tried reading a medical journal, but I simply could not bring myself to concentrate. My thoughts were ever on her.

The moment three o'clock rolled around, I had nearly shredded every linen handkerchief I owned. As if on autopilot (which I am convinced vampires do not possess), I got in my car and drove the short distance into town and to the school where she worked. The parking lot had emptied by the time I got there—children and teachers alike had fled—but her car was still sitting at the far end under a barren sycamore tree.

After parking next to her, I got out of my Audi and walked the short distance inside, keeping to the shadows. I forced myself to walk in heavy, measured steps in hopes that it would prevent me from sprinting to where her scent was the strongest. My feet felt leaden beneath me and the feeling of weightless movement I had since becoming a vampire had abandoned me completely. Each step felt like a mile, and yet I was beginning to wonder if I would be ready to see her when my legs brought me to where she was. But before I had time to back out, she was before me.

I paused in the doorway of her classroom, observing her at first. She stood behind her desk, carefully stacking her papers together and putting them into her satchel. I noticed that she seemed tense, the muscles of her back and legs tightly bunched. With hardly any thought at all, I found myself leaning against the doorway as I lost myself in studying the perfection of her form. Her lovely legs had been elongated that day, set off by the full skirt she was wearing along with thick, textured grey tights and brown knee-high boots. Her torso was covered by a crimson sweater that made me think of ripe currants in the summer, and her lovely mahogany hair was swept back and secured at the nape of her neck with two small golden chopsticks. The way the autumn sun hit her skin as it came in the window…well, it struck me in a way I had a hard time placing, but I felt as if I would be happy to spend the rest of my eternal life in that moment, watching her lovely form.

"Stupid, stupid," she murmured, tossing her pen on the desk and snapping closed the clasp on her bag.

"Who is stupid?" I asked before I could stop myself. "Surely not you."

She yelped, jumping slightly before turning to look at me. "Carlisle, you're here."

Her expression was inscrutable, but I forced myself into a state of calm I did not feel and pushed away from the doorframe. "How was Florida?"

Bella blushed, looking down at her feet. "You heard about that, huh?"

"Small town, big mouths," I said with a practiced shrug. "And I might have sweet talked the girls at the diner. Just maybe."

She grinned slightly and I felt an inner relief. "Well, I can't say I am surprised. Your charm is rather supernatural," Bella said with a roll of her attractive brown eyes.

Chuckling, I replied, "So it is." I then took a deep breath. I knew that if I wanted her to level with me then I had to be honest with her. I had to lay everything out there and hope that she would respond with equal feeling. So, with bated breath, I confessed, "I missed you."

If possible, her face seemed to completely relax as Bella gave me a tremulous smile. "Really?"

"Yes, really," I said. "My mornings, days, and nights are not complete without you in them." I could hear the sudden increase in her heart rate and I had to stop myself from smiling with relief. She _did_ feel something for me. I had gone completely off script by this point, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Not when I was standing so near to her once more.

"I feel the same way about you," Bella said with a small smile. Her face then became serious. "I am sorry for what happened that night, and even more for leaving after. I kinda had to get my head screwed on right, you know? Jacksonville was good for that. I saw my mom, and we talked." She chuckled. "A lot. And, anyway, I need to apologize for what I did and said that night. I realize I put you in an awkward position, and I am sorry for it."

The part of me that wanted still to guard my heart nearly tore itself in two, but I forced myself to look her in the eye and said, "Please do not be. I am not."

"Really?"

"Really," I confirmed. "What happened that night…well, neither of us handled it in the best way. I was patronizing and I am sorry for that, but I am not sorry that it was discussed. To be honest, Bella, you caught me completely off guard and that is why I reacted in such an abominable manner."

"Off guard?" She repeated, her eyes wide. "You were surprised by what I confessed?" Her face suddenly suffused with color. "Oh, this could not be more embarrassing."

"No!" I exclaimed. "I didn't mean that. I mean, yes, your confession was a surprise as I had thought I was alone in my feelings—" Her head snapped up at that. "But what I was referring to was your response to my question—about changing, I mean."

"You were surprised?" she asked with a furrowed brow. "How?"

I cleared my throat, despite it being unnecessary. "I don't rightly know, exactly. I think mostly I had, in my head, convinced myself that Edward had soured you to the idea altogether. I thought that if I even suggested it to you, you would run away screaming—but then you said you wanted it, and coupled that with feelings you had developed…"

"And you were overwhelmed," Bella finished.

"Yes."

"Because I pushed," she said.

"No!" I said firmly. "No. Because I didn't know how to react. I am quite sure that I have never been before confronted with the only two things I wanted and then had them offered to me on a silver platter."

Her mouth opened in shock. "Oh."

Agitated, as I couldn't read her expression, I hurriedly said, "Look, I know that my reaction might have caused you to change your mind and to think of me as the worst sort of man, but I want you to know that I would happily change you whenever you want. Just as long as you are sure."

Bella looked at me for several long, endless moments before beginning to speak. "When I went down to Jacksonville, it was mostly because I was embarrassed for speaking to you like that. I'd thought I bombarded you, and I felt so bad because of it. I thought I had wrecked our friendship. But while I was down there, I really got to thinking about what you said to me. About all the things I would miss."

I felt myself still completely. I could not move until she freed me from my purgatory.

"I hadn't thought it all through," she said. "I was young and I was childish when I was with Edward, and all the things that should have been a consideration got pushed to the side. I actually sort of feel bad about that now." Bella shook her head. "Anyway, I really thought about all the things I would miss and all the things that I would give up. It _is_ a sacrifice in some respects, but the thing is…the thing is…that I can't imagine my life without you in it."

I began to breathe again, and all I saw was the rapturous perfection of her face.

She continued, "You have been such a wonderful friend and companion since we crossed paths again, and I can't pretend to know your mind but I would like to think that you feel even the smallest bit bound to me as I do to you."

"I do," I said, cutting in. "I do indeed."

"Good," she said with a sweet smile. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and never let go. "I can't know the future, no one can. Well, except Alice, but the thing is that I want my life with you—in whatever capacity makes you comfortable."

I sighed with relief. "Thank you, Lord," I murmured. I then smiled slightly, "I am happier than I can express, Bella. Though I know I should not feel it and don't deserve it, I can't help but be grateful."

"You sound like Edward," Bella said with a tinkling laugh. "Good things are allowed to happen to you Carlisle."

"You don't understand," I said quietly, giving her a sad smile. "You look at me and see nothing more than a man, but Bella…I'm weak. Deep down, that is all I am at heart. It was weakness that led me to change Edward and Esme, then contrition to change Rosalie and Emmett." I paused, wanting to gauge her reaction—to see her disgust. But it was not there. There was no judgment on her face, no repulsion. Only present was simple acceptance.

She shrugged. "So you're weak, so what? You think I am not? Believe me, I am. Why are you so hard on yourself? Why set such impossible standards that you can't hope to meet? Is it a weakness to want the company of others? To desire and need another?"

I considered her words as I confessed, "I could live with my selfishness in anything else but what I do with you. I need…I need to know that this is what you really want. That I am not pilfering something you do not wish to give."

Bella looked into my eyes and whispered calmly, "This is what I want."

I breathed in again, nodding my head. "Good."

"Good," she said back, smiling widely.

I couldn't stop myself then from coming around the desk to her side and yanking her into my arms. When I took in her heavy floral-scented hair against my nose, I felt contentment to the very depths of my soul. Bella fit so perfectly in my embrace, despite our relative heights and her tiny form. Our bodies were pressed together and I could feel the thudding of her heart through the thinness of her skin. Ducking my head downwards, I looked into her clear brown eyes and I saw my fate stretched out before me.

It was only ever her.

Bella's breath came in warm gentle puffs against my chin and I could hear her pulse accelerate as I pulled her ever more tightly to my body. "Oh, Bella," I whispered. "I can't ever lose you."

Tears filled her eyes and she whispered, "You won't. Not ever."

I nodded my head. "I know that, I will not let it happen. It is just…my biggest fear is that you will change your mind about joining me. I want this so much, and I cannot help but fear that you will back out. That you will resent me and send me away."

"You won't leave me," she cried suddenly, "right? I couldn't bear it if you did."

"I'll never leave you now," I promised, kissing her temple. "I don't have the will. Wherever you go…I'll follow."

"Well, I won't leave again either," she said. "And I could never send you away."

Bella's words were said with such conviction. I could see her sincerity in her eyes, and I felt my own look at her in answering wonder. The heightened feelings that flowed between us were beyond my understanding, beyond my knowledge, yet I couldn't help but remember the way I had once felt when I stood in the nave of St. Paul's. I had seen and felt divinity there; I had once told her that. Now divinity had visited me again.

It was between us.

Without further thought or care, I ducked my head down and gently pressed my lips to hers.

Like instinctual memory, my lips moved of their own accord, bending and fitting her soft ones to my own. Again and again I sampled them, drawing the hot sweetness of their touch to me over and over. Her skin was heated perfection. Like silk draped over bone, I ran my hands up and down Bella's arms before settling them to cup her lovely face. Had I the ability to reflect, I would have worried at the coolness of my lips and touch, but rational thought had deserted me the moment I dared to touch the heavens.

I knew I should release her lips, but I did not. I could not. There was but one truth and one thought that I could contain. _Need, need, need_. I needed her so desperately that I could not remember what I had been before, nor knew not what I would be after. She was my one thought and my one saving grace. All that I was, all that I would ever be, was hers. And with that token, with that knowledge—I knew that I could never release her now.

No, not now. Not now that I had tasted the sweet divinity of her mouth and the bewitching softness of her lips. Not now that I knew the agonizing ecstasy that I had been missing all my eternal years. Not now that I had held her trembling form to my body and ended my eternal loneliness in her embrace. I would never leave her, even if she bade me go.

The promise I had made her moments before was sealed at the moment her lips answered mine.

_The gentle sin was this._ In one kiss I had forever bound my fate to hers. I could no more leave her side than I could pull the stars from the sky. She was my one constant and that she would ever after remain. Bella could not know the now altered state of my heart and, pulling back and looking into her warm brown eyes, I had not the words to tell her. I could do no more than press my lips to hers once more and take my sin again.

Oh, heaven did indeed exist.

And I would not give the chance of it up by ever forsaking her.

After all, be they vampires or mortals, people are selfish in the extreme. And it seemed that I was no exception. Let me be selfish then. Let me be weak.

If this was humanity, I would embrace it with both hands.

* * *

_BPOV_

When the minute hand of the clock finally hit the twelve, I gave a mental cheer. The day had been an exhausting one. From the moment I woke, it seemed as if everything was had gone wrong. I gotten up extremely early, practically at the moment the sun rose in the sky. It normally wouldn't have bothered me, but I _was_ tired. The flight home the day before and the hassle with the airports had grated on me until I was relieved to escape to the peace of slumber. It was certainly not in my plan to wake with the sun.

I spent the morning unpacking, painting my nails, answering mail, paying bills…everything except sleeping as I would have liked. Once I finally got on the road to work, I tried not to be devastated when I didn't see Carlisle's bewitching smile waiting for me in Dottie's. I furthermore tried not to be annoyed with my students, who were all still riding the high from the holiday weekend, as they bounced and loudly talked throughout the day. But when the bell finally tolled and released my pupils, relief was all I felt.

And, in the end, I was really not annoyed with them, but with myself. I could not seem to force my mind to concentrate without straying to dangerous spaces. Trying to conquer and subdue my traitorous thoughts was next to impossible, for all I could see was him. His lovely golden eyes; his strong and determined jaw; his tousled blond hair. Him, him, him.

"Stupid, stupid," I muttered to myself.

"Who is stupid?" I heard. "Surely not you." With a start, I turned and looked up to see the object of my affection leaning ever so casually in the doorway. He grinned at me.

All thoughts flew from my head at that point. I managed to hold a fairly coherent conversation with Carlisle, but I would have to replay it in my mind later to fully grasp it. No, my thoughts were on the six foot sculpture of perfection standing before me. And when we finally kissed, I surrendered the idea of rational thought completely.

_I want him. I want him want him want him_. I chanted the refrain repeatedly in my head. My mind was filled with nothing but him. The coolness of his lips was shocking at first—I had forgotten what kissing cool marble felt like—but they soon gave way and began to absorb the warmth of my own mouth. I am sure that I have many times imagined what it would feel like to kiss him, to feel his body against mine, but the reality of it was shocking. I felt so small and delicate as I was protected and cradled by the broad span of his shoulders and pressed against his tapered hips. He was firm and unyielding and everything I could have ever wished for.

His lips nibbled and sipped against my own, and I couldn't escape the feeling that he was savoring me, much in the way a wine connoisseur would the bouquet of a rich and heady vintage. I responded with equal fervor. My fingers quickly tangled in his hair, touching the silky golden locks that had transfixed me from the first moment that I met him. We pressed together from hip to breast, and the coolness of his lips and body made my nipples tighten appreciably under my bra.

I felt his hands slide down my arms until his fingers were interlocked with my own. He made no move to deepen the kiss, though I wished he would. I yearned to feel his tongue; to touch it with my own. Pulling away slightly, Carlisle rested his forehead against my own. Cool marble against heated flesh.

"I have desired to do that for a long time," he confessed quietly.

"Me too," I replied.

He gently traced the curve of my jaw with a single finger, as if he was touching fragile glass. "Your skin is so soft. I am almost afraid to touch it."

"Don't be," I said firmly. "Don't treat me like I'm breakable. I don't like it."

He smiled, improving his already perfected beauty. "I am not treating you like you are breakable because I feel I can't touch or be near you, Bella. I treat you as if you are something infinitely precious—because to me, you are."

I had no words to argue with that. So instead I pressed my lips to his in answer. He was precious to me too.

I heard him moan against my mouth, clutching me ever closer. Our lips slid back and forth in a silken glide, struggling to join more completely. Without a thought beyond my desire, I opened my mouth slightly and he responded by deepening the kiss. Quickly, his cool tongue darted out to mate with mine. The feel of him was electric and I am sure that I was panting through my nose. Again and again he caressed my mouth, tracing the contours and delighting in the warmth. The feeling of our moist mouths caressing in such a delicious melody sent shoots of pleasure throughout my body and down to my core. I could feel my blood begin to heat, bubbling happily in answer to the havoc that he wreaked.

Carlisle pulled my hips against his, and I felt the proof of his desire pressed up against my belly. I know I moaned then, so happy that the want and need between us was not felt by me alone. The pads of his fingers drifted from their secure hold on my hips, traveling around until they fully cupped my bottom. _Yes!_ I chanted in my head.

I rubbed my front against him, enjoying the feeling of my nipples pebbled against his chest, not even thinking about how instinctually I was responding despite my inexperience. It just seemed so right to do these things with Carlisle. There could be no awkwardness because it was _him_.

Suddenly, he yanked himself away from me, stepping two feet away.

"Carlisle, what—"

"Shh," he said, holding one finger up against his lips.

I then heard what had caught his attention. I turned to the door and saw the custodial cart that was being pushed through the frame. Following the cart was the janitor, who didn't seem to realize I was still in my classroom.

"Oh! Begging your pardon, Miss Swan," he said when he saw me, his kindly brown eyes crinkling at the corners of his aged and weathered skin. "I didn't realize you were still here."

"No, it's my fault Jack. My friend and I got to talking…" I trailed off before saying, "Do you know Dr. Cullen?"

"I surely do," Jack said. Wiping his hands on his coveralls, he grinned ruefully. "Well, of him at least. You treated one of my grandbabies for croup a month ago."

Carlisle tilted his head to the side, as if he was examining something in his mind, and then smiled. "Theresa's son, right? The Matthews boy?"

"That's right," Jack said as he shook the hand that Carlisle offered. "Nice to meet you, Doc."

"And you," Carlisle responded easily.

Once they dropped hands, Jack gave Carlisle a funny smile and said, "Cold hands. Huh. Your kind always has cold hands, don't they?"

Carlisle and I both looked at him in shock, before Carlisle managed to say calmly and without anxiety, "My kind?"

"Doctors," Jack clarified.

Carlisle laughed then, probably partly due to relief, and said, "Occupational requirement, I suppose."

I smiled at Jack as I grabbed my bag. "Well, we'll get out of your way, Jack. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you then, Miss Swan." He tipped his newsboy cap to me as we left the room.

When we were a distance away from the classroom, Carlisle said quietly, "He seemed kind."

"Very kind," I agreed. "Quite an old fashioned gentleman too. He refuses to call me by my first name because 'it wouldn't be rightly proper'."

Carlisle grinned. "Sometimes I miss those sort of manners."

"Do you?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Well," he said with a boyish grin, "modern times _do_ have their advantages."

We laughed the short distance remaining to our cars. Once I had unlocked the driver side door, I turned to him over the roof of my car and asked, "Follow me home?"

"Of course," he said with a soft smile as his eyes warmed to a rich ocher.

Grinning to myself, I got in the car and quickly turned over the engine. On the quick drive to my house, I couldn't help but feel deliriously grateful that I had gone to Jacksonville. That short trip gave me clarity that I desperately needed. Without it, I am not sure I could have been able to speak so plainly to Carlisle.

When our two car caravan arrived in my driveway, I parked my Honda in first and Carlisle slotted his Audi just behind mine. Stepping from the car, I couldn't help but notice the chill that seemed permanently in the air as Christmas fast approached. I shivered as I pulled my wool jacket closed at the throat and hurried to the door. I could hear the sound of Carlisle's soft tread behind me, causing me to tuck my face downward and hide a giddy smile. With a swipe and turn of the key, I yanked open the door and allowed us both into my toasty house.

I dropped my purse and schoolbag in the entryway, by the coat pegs that lined the hallway wall, and then turned back to Carlisle who had closed the door and was now watching me with hooded eyes. I walked backwards into my living room as he closed the distance between us with a quick stride. When the back of my legs hit the couch, I paused and waited. He didn't disappoint, but narrowed the distance between us until we were separated by nothing more than a hairsbreadth, with both of his arms settled on either side of me, resting on lightly the couch back. Eyes that had been a golden color not moments before had retreated, replaced by hard black diamonds.

He tilted his head, leaning down and inhaling deeply against my neck. Goosebumps broke out across my skin as my breasts tightened once again in anticipation. "Bella," he murmured, dragging his lips along the skin of my neck until they dipped down and pressed gentle kisses where my shoulder curved. "You smell so wonderful."

"I thought you could barely smell my blood," I gasped when his cold tongue came out to trace gentle patterns on my skin. Without thinking, I tilted my head to the side to give him better access.

"I do barely smell it," Carlisle said against my skin. "I am talking about _you_. You'd be surprised how foul most people smell, even now with better hygiene and cleanliness standards. But you, oh, you smell better than any perfume could ever hope to." His tongue receded as he began to press gentle kisses up the side of my neck and then along the curve of my jaw. He stopped at my mouth before pressing yet another kiss there—one so gentle it felt like a brush of a feather. "Though I must admit that I _did_ notice the potency of your blood when I first met you, but it caused nothing more than a tickle in my throat. Now, I can't even remember why I ever thought it more potent than any other blood."

"Good," I murmured with a smile. "At least I know you won't slip then when you change me."

He chuckled lightly. "I am very dedicated to ensuring your continued existence. I won't make a mistake, I promise. You would be in no danger of me losing control." Carlisle then leaned over and kissed my jugular again. "So lovely," he murmured. "So delicate."

I was tilted back, wanting to, in equal measure, escape and press closer to the cool torment of his lips. "Go ahead," I said. "I'm ready."

He pulled back so abruptly, I stumbled for a moment before finding my balance.

"What's wrong?" I asked, confused.

"Bella," Carlisle said, shaking his head. "I can't just bite you now, not without any preparation."

"What? Why not?" I asked, sudden annoyance filling me.

"Well, what about your job? Your family? There needs to be some thought about this."

_What a tease_, I thought.

"I _have_ thought about it," I said, gritting my teeth. "I am as ready now as I ever will be."

He chuckled. "Of that I have no doubt."

"Then change me already!"

"No, we have to do this right," he said. "Think of Charlie. Think of your mother. Think of how it would hurt them both if you just disappeared." He sighed. "They will need closure, Bella."

"If not now, then how should we do it? And when?"

"Ideally, anytime after the holidays would be preferable," Carlisle said, gazing steadily into my eyes. "And as to the how…we should fake your death in some way. Some way that will be accepted; a way in which no questions will be asked."

I sighed, a sinking feeling settling over me. It was all too real suddenly.

"Hey," he said, cupping my cheeks in his cold hands. He must have seen the momentary hesitation on my face. "Nothing needs to be decided right now, or even a year from now. After the holidays was just an idea. I'll wait as long as you want to. One month, one year, one decade…it doesn't matter, Bella. Not to me. Whatever makes _you_ comfortable, all right? But you can't just disappear. That's dangerous, to more than just you."

I felt suddenly guilty, realizing that since Carlisle would be disappearing at the same time to help me with my newborn craziness, we had to have a perfect story in place. "Sorry," I said, ducking my head. "I didn't think."

He smiled at me and I felt instantly better. "Don't worry; I want it to be sooner rather than later too."

"Good," I said, walking slowly to him and wrapping my arms around his waist. "Then we'll think something up and then…after the holidays?"

"You have my word," he whispered gently.

Standing on my tiptoes, I pressed my palms against his pectorals and kissed him firmly. I nibbled his lips gently, then pulled away to trace the lines of his lips with my tongue.

"Bella," my love groaned.

"What?" I murmured innocently.

"You know what," he growled.

"It's just a kiss," I whispered.

"It can never be just a kiss," he replied. "Not with us."

I laughed in happiness. "Are you saying that I tempt you, Dr. Cullen?"

"You know you do, Miss Swan," Carlisle bantered back. "And though I am a gentleman, my restraint only goes so far. You make me want to forget myself."

"Then do," I said. "I promise not to tell."

He grinned and shook his head. "You could try the patience of a saint, couldn't you?"

"It has been suggested," I answered cheekily. My voice then lowered and I said, "Come to bed with me, Carlisle." I knew he could see the sincerity and desire in my eyes.

Groaning, he grabbed me and gave me a swift and sweet kiss, his tongue darting out to taste me once again. My eyes closed against their will as I savored the feelings he stirred in me. He barely touched me, and yet my blood began to race and I could feel myself being brought to the highest of peaks. Pulling back slightly, Carlisle cupped my face in his hands again and murmured, "I would love nothing more, sweetheart, but I think we need to work up to that. For me, sex is more than just an act and I am not sure…that is, I couldn't bear it if I hurt you. There is so much that we have to decide and explore, but no decision needs to be made tonight. Can't we take this slowly, Bella?"

Tilting my head to the side, I studied him. There, nearly hidden in his eyes, was real fear. I knew then that it was important that we did this right—for both of us.

"Okay. Slowly."

He then grinned, lightly dragging the pads of his fingertips down the arches of my cheekbones. "After all, we have forever."

My pulse sped up. "Forever," I said in a low voice. "I like the sound of that, but I am not sure I want to wait for all eternity. '_Come live with me and be my love, and we will all the pleasures prove_.'"

His lips curled up warmly and he answered with twinkling eyes, quoting, "'_But could youth last, and love still breed, had joys no date, nor age no need, then these delights my mind might move to live with thee and be thy love_.'" Carlisle laughed gently. "I suppose our youth will last."

"And age certainly won't be a factor," I answered back. "Not with us. Not when age and death will never factor in."

"No," he whispered hoarsely. "Not for us. '_The grave's a fine and private place, but none, I think, do there embrace_.' There we _will _embrace."

"'_Now let us sport us while we may_,'" I softly quoted back. I then took off my jacket, tossing it on the couch. After that, off came the boots, leaving me in my stocking feet. I stood tall, confidence filling me as I held out my hand to him, palm up. "Come with me."

"Where?" he asked hoarsely, his eyes wide with confusion and conflicted desire.

"To bed," I said, forcing nonchalance in my tone that I did not feel. "If we are going to take this slowly, you need to be in close proximity to me and I…I want time with you. Intimacy. We can just talk, if you prefer; whatever you are comfortable with. I just want you near me." I was amazed at the confidence he could inspire in me. I never felt as comfortable as I did when I was with him.

Carlisle smiled and took off his superfluous lightweight coat. Then the shoes followed and he took my hand. Our fingers intertwined as we padded down the hall to my bedroom.

At the doorway, Carlisle pulled away his hand, stepping into the room ahead of me. His eyes went from side to side, studying my sanctuary. I tried to see it from his eyes, wondering if he approved. The room was dominated by a sleigh bed, made in cherry wood. Matching bedside tables framed it, and a similarly stained chest stood on the far wall by the closet. Under the window, an ivory chaise sat with purple throw pillows on it that matched my bedspread and the curtains.

"It's very you," Carlisle said quietly.

"Why are you surprised? You have been in here before," I asked, thinking of the night I sprained my ankle.

"I did not look," he confessed. "I just grabbed the book and left. I did not want to intrude."

I laughed happily at his chivalry, a warm feeling coming over my chest. "That's sweet."

I shivered then.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"A bit," I said in confusion. "It is so warm in the rest of the house…" I trailed off when I was that the window was halfway open. Dimly I remembered opening it that morning when I painted my nails and the potent smell wafted in from the bathroom.

I walked over to the window to close it, but as I did a sudden thought came to me.

I had a vampire in my bedroom.

_Some things really do come full circle_, I thought with a smile.

A few years ago I would have given anything for Edward to climb through my bedroom window once more, now…now that thought couldn't be further from my mind. I felt light years away from that girl, the one who had happily made a boy with copper hair her whole world.

With a nostalgic smile firmly in place, I pressed my palms to the top of the sash and closed the window. I no longer had to listen for my father's footfalls so that my vampire boyfriend could escape out the window. I no longer had to leave that same window cracked surreptitiously. Turning back towards Carlisle, I saw him watching me with warm and caring eyes.

I moved across the room, giggling when he yanked me into his arms and tumbled us both to the bed. As our kisses became more heated, I felt a lightness in my chest that I could neither explain nor understand. There was no measuring my happiness, for it was far too immense to be calculated and enumerated.

All I knew was that by closing the window, I felt as if somehow I was writing the final chapter of my life in Forks.

With Edward.

Because I wasn't a child anymore, and the man I loved could damn well use the front door.

* * *

_Much of the kiss from Carlisle's POV references Romeo and Juliet's first kiss. I even snuck in a borrowed line or two. I am completely against the way SM holds that relationship up as a model, but the poetry of the play really is beautiful. The line "__like everything in life, I just had to decide what to do with what I was given" is taken directly from New Moon page 35. __The "I'm in no danger of losing control" line re Bella's change was paraphrased from one of Carlisle's lines in New Moon, page 536. And the "think of Charlie" line was both paraphrased and quoted directly from something Carlisle says in Eclipse, page 206. _

_I must also apologize for the nerd in me that came out in this chapter and started quoting Carpe Diem poetry. The first quoted line "Come live with me…" is from "The Passionate Shepherd to His Love" a poem by Christopher Marlowe. Carlisle's answer "But could youth last…" is from the poem "Her Reply" by Sir Walter Ralegh. The last two quoted lines ("The grave's a fine and private place…" and "Now let us sport…") are from the poem I used in the epigraph "To His Coy Mistress."_

_Also, many thanks are owed to StormDragonfly who was kind enough to listen to me brainstorm, bounce ideas around, and answer several questions that I had. Please check out her story __Moonlit__, which is IMO one of the best Carlisle/Bella stories on this site._

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	11. Part I: Of Beginnings and Endings

_I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect. And it's these things I'd believe in, even if the whole world indulged in wild suspicions that she wasn't all she should be. I love her and it is the beginning of everything._

_—F. Scott Fitzgerald_

* * *

_Chapter Eleven — Of Beginnings and Endings_

_BPOV_

Winter had come early to Calais; well, at least early by my reckoning. I was used to snow in the late winter and early spring, or not at all, so it had been quite a surprise to wake up the last day of November to a white blanket covering the ground.

My mind had been foggy at first, stuck in that in place between dreams and awakenings, and I had thought that I was simply dreaming of marble arms surrounding me. It was a common enough dream, and had been with me for years. Initially, it was of Edward and him coming back to me. Sometimes, when I had finally stopped having the nightmares of him leaving me in the woods, I would have these beautiful dreams of waking up in his arms. He would kiss my nose and smile, and we would be in my bedroom in Forks. No time would have passed, and he would laugh at the idea of ever leaving me. Later, with years and distance, I stopped having even those dreams as they faded as all human memories do.

Edward claimed that human minds were like a sieve, and that time heals all wounds for humans. How right he was. We simply must go on; there is no other choice. The beauty of the human condition is that we must adapt or die. Time stands still for no man, and all that rot. As cliché as it might be, it also happens to be true. The brevity of our lives ensures the forgetfulness of our minds.

As to Edward—after long years, in which the dreams had faded entirely, I forgot them. It was only when I moved to Calais and Carlisle stepped back into my life that the dreams began again. Only this time it was a very different vampire in whose cool embrace I rested. Perhaps I might then be forgiven for at first thinking that my resting in Carlisle's arms was but a dream. It was with no little shock that I felt Carlisle's cool nose press against my ear as he murmured, "I know you're awake."

I trembled a bit, shivering, then stretching out my legs under the covers. Late in the night, I had changed into pajamas and got under the covers while my vampire and I had talked. "Hmm," I responded. "Sleeping now, talk later."

The bed shook as I could feel Carlisle's chest rumbling in laughter. "Bella, Bella," he sang softly. "It's time to get up."

"No, no work," I grumbled, still refusing to open my eyes.

"No, no work today," he murmured. "Not for you or for me."

"But it's a school day," I replied as my brain slowly cleared.

"It may be so, but look outside."

"Huh?" I asked, before rolling over and opening my eyes to the sight of nothing but white beyond the window.

The snow had come, and it had continued all day. School had been canceled, and though Carlisle had been on call he had never been paged. We spent the entire day by the warmth of the fire in each other's arms, listening to the cracking of branches and the hush of white noise as the snow came down.

Even two weeks later, I couldn't help but look back on that day with pleasure. It had been a rare lull between emotional conversations and steps forward. I certainly hoped Carlisle looked back on it with the same pleasure that I did. In a way, it had been the beginning of the way we were now. Before the declarations and the talks, while we had had a deep and important friendship, there had always been walls, always things unsaid. That changed after the night Carlisle stayed. All walls were gone and there had been a certain liberty of feeling. I had been able to tell him of the development of my feelings for him, and how I had thought he looked like a movie star the first time I saw him. He returned the favor by telling me about his guilt over Edward that had held him back, as well as his feelings of unworthiness.

Imagine, such a divine creature feeling unworthy of me! It beggared understanding.

The fall of snow truly brought with it a new lease on life, for both of us. The rivers froze over and the park in the town center had set up an ice rink. Wreaths were hung and lights were strung, and Christmas music seemed to echo everywhere. It was infectious in a way to be caught up in the magic of the holiday season. I was certainly cherishing this one, and not only because I simply knew that it would be my last one as a human. It also had meaning because it was the first one I was sharing with Carlisle.

In Forks, I had arrived a few weeks after Christmas and they had left several months before it. I had never spent a Cullen Christmas with a family of vampires, nor kissed Edward under the mistletoe, or even reluctantly received a present from Alice. There were simply no connotations with the Cullens in regard to Christmas, and in a way I was glad. It simply meant that there was no ground to recover; everything was new. No memories of Edward would intrude on our holiday, at least not from my perspective.

All these things and more flitted through my mind as I walked with Carlisle through the forest, two weeks after that fateful first night I slept by his side. The snow crunched under our boots as we made our way along the snowy path. Our gloved hands were entwined and in his free one, Carlisle carried a saw. We were actually trekking through the trees to find one to cut down for Christmas. I had never done it this way, Christmas had always meant a fake tree with Renee or a bedraggled spruce bought from a lot the few times I had spent it with Charlie. When I had said as much to Carlisle, he had been completely horrified and insisted we do it the proper way. His spirits were high, even now as he regaled me with stories of previous Christmases with his family.

"And so Emmett was convinced that he could get away with a gift certificate for Rosalie," Carlisle was saying, shaking his head while laughing. "Alice tried to tell him it was a horrible idea and that Rosalie would not be pleased, but Emmett said 'This way she can buy what she wants, right? It's not like I'm being cheap.'"

I shook my head, laughing. "So what happened?"

"The predictable," Carlisle said with an elegant shrug. "Rosalie opened it on Christmas morning, frowned, and then wouldn't speak to Emmett for two weeks. It took a trip to Paris and a shopping spree that cost more than a small house for her to forgive him, which ended up being about ten times as expensive as a Christmas present would have been. Poor Emmett, he always did have the worst luck with gifts. Of course, that Christmas was nothing to the one when Edward, Emmett and Jasper burned down the parlor."

I laughed, my breath exhaling in an icy gush of air. I liked that he no longer held back talking about Edward. He was part of both our pasts, and with Carlisle it didn't hurt to remember that. So with a grin, I asked, "When was this?"

"Oh, Christmas '87? We were in Salem then, and Jasper and Emmett were particularly rambunctious. They had been outside all day rolling in the snow, which was fine except they came back in the house in high spirits and started harassing Edward until he joined them. Eventually, they broke three windows and knocked the Christmas tree into the fire, which of course lit up immediately." He laughed. "We were able to contain the fire, but Esme was horrified. The entire parlor was destroyed. I think she had been very fond of that one."

"Sounds very memorable," I said, a grin plastered across my face. I felt no hurt or jealousy at the mention of Esme, only happiness that he was willing to share his past with me.

"Oh, it was and the boys spent the next several years all blaming each other, and sometimes Alice for not telling them what would happen."

I laughed again, and then came to a stop in front of what had to be the most perfect tree I had ever seen.

I smiled and then pointed. "This one."

Carlisle looked at the tree I was aiming at. "That one, you sure?"

"Mmmhmm," I replied. "Can you check it? Make sure there are no squirrels who would take offense to it being cut down?"

He grinned at me. "You think they won't take offense to a vampire sticking his nose into their little home if that is the case?"

I clapped my hands together to get the feeling back in them and to stave off the cold, and then rolled my eyes. "Or you could just listen if there are any heartbeats and use your vamp eyeballs to see. No nose sticking required."

"Darn, I forgot about that," he smiled, his expression teasing.

One of the greatest changes in the last two weeks was the expression of constant happiness that seemed to be perpetually on Carlisle's face. Though he had often smiled and laughed in my company before, there was something about him that seemed relaxed now. It was as if all his insecurities had been laid bare and then accepted and released. I was incredibly happy for him and happy _with_ him, and all our happiness and joy seemed to cycle round and round back to each other over and over again. There was a merriness in the air that had nothing to do with the season. For the first time, perhaps in all my life, everything fit exactly as it was supposed to. I felt a deep easiness in the direction of my life, and I knew I was making the correct decisions. I had no fears of what was to come, only hopes and dreams. And I knew Carlisle could feel it too. The infectious happiness that surrounded us wasn't just from new love, but rather from the deep happiness of our hearts. It had even led to us doing things that I had never thought possible long ago when I had been young in Forks.

The previous night had been one such occasion.

Slow, we had agreed to go slow. But Carlisle's version of slow wasn't even in the same ball park as Edward's version of slow. Edward's had meant chaste kisses and gentle clasps of the hand and tentative strokes over layers of clothing. Carlisle's version, well, definitely did not.

After kissing me, with tongue—hallelujah!—he had pulled me into his lap on the rug before the roaring fire. As the wood crackled and hissed, my vampire had explored my neck with his lips, kissing his way down toward my chest. Just when I thought he would stop, pull away, and right his clothes, instead he had raised one eyebrow as he touched the top button of my blouse and said, "May I?"

My heart had just about beat out of my chest as I smiled and nodded eagerly. His fingers had been deft and quick, freeing the buttons one by one as his hands slowly caressed flesh as he went. When he reached the last button, he undid it and then parted the material and helped me shrug out of the shirt. Aside from my lacy bra, I had been bare before him. But instead of the shyness I expected to feel, I felt warm and wanted. His heated gaze had made me feel as though I was the most beautiful of women, like Aphrodite standing before an amorous Adonis. There had been no impetuous grabbing or startled movements, instead he had gently run his fingers along my flank, and then around on my stomach and then up over my breasts, cupping them gently.

His lips had then returned to mine after he adjusted my legs so that I was straddling him. He pulled me close, letting me know in no uncertain terms that I affected him deeply, and that he was as much man as vampire. He had been tender and sweet, but also passionate. I am sure that in all my imaginings I could not have thought it better. When he held me close it was not just with reverence, but also with desire. I was fully a woman in his eyes.

When his shirt had joined mine in the pile of deserted clothes, I had gasped at the feeling of his cool pectorals against my lace-covered breasts. It was a strange sensation, like ice on my warm flesh. But, as I quickly discovered, it did not stay that way. The natural coolness of his body was due to the lack of a circulatory system, not a natural affinity for freezing temperatures. As the fire warmed us, and I pressed against him, he grew, not warm, but perhaps tepid. The initial discrepancy in temperature soon faded from my mind.

We spent hours like that, warming before the fire as we lazily learned each other's bodies. Our pants stayed on, and there was not wandering below the waist, but even so it was the furthest I had been with a man and the most satisfying experience of my life.

During one moment, he rested his head on my chest and sighed happily.

"What are you thinking about?" I had asked.

"I wasn't thinking. I was listening."

"To what?"

"Your heart," he replied. "Thump, thump. It's a good sound."

We said but little else, nothing really had to be spoken. We were simply learning each other, as I discovered that, in Carlisle's case, slow was good.

"Bella!"

Jerking my head up, I looked at Carlisle's exasperated expression. "I said would you hand me the saw?"

Smiling, I nodded, passing it to him. He grinned right back at me and I wondered if his mind was drifting to last night as well, or if he was thinking of that very morning when I had made a fool of myself on skates.

As it was my last Christmas as a human, I was determined to make the most of it. Everything would be much easier once I was a vampire, but in a way that felt a bit like cheating. Would I savor things as much when I didn't have to work for them? I didn't know, but it certainly made me want to do as much as I could before I was turned. And one thing I had never learned was to ice skate.

We had decided to forgo the rink in town square as I had little desire to make a spectacle of myself before my students and their families, and instead went to a little pond deep in the woods that Carlisle had taken us to in moments thanks to his vampire speed. There we had put on our skates—mine borrowed from Linda—and he had gently led me around. I was like a wobbly colt just learning to walk, but it had been great fun. Carlisle had hummed Christmas tunes the whole time, occasionally breaking into song with his beautiful voice. He seemed to favor the classics, but every now and then I could have sworn I heard strains of "Frosty the Snowman."

I had fallen on my butt at least five times, but it was fun and it was new…but mostly, it was together. I never minded looking like a fool in front of Carlisle.

I remember my paralyzing fear of Edward and the idea that he would think me clumsy or pathetic. I hadn't been comfortable in my own skin, but really that wasn't Edward's fault. It must have been so frustrating for him when he tried to convince me of my desirability and I just wouldn't listen. It had never made sense for him to love me, not then. Now I could understand, now I was proud of the woman I had become. Carlisle assured me that Edward had truly loved me, more than once, but in a way it didn't matter. _I_ hadn't loved me; I had been so unsure of myself that I think a part of me would have always wondered if and why he loved me, and felt insecure and unworthy of his loving gaze. But now, all these years later, with Carlisle, I didn't doubt that he found me desirable. I didn't doubt that he wanted me, or fear of making a fool of myself in front of him. I was secure in myself and I was secure in him.

In the months since Carlisle had returned to my life, I had spent many hours thinking of Edward. It was different, of course, from the way I thought of him those years ago. There was no aching wound in my chest as I longed for him and it didn't hurt to think or say his name, instead it was thoughtful reflection. Learning the truth from Carlisle about that day Edward left me in the woods, and about the way Edward had truly loved me had been a release I had not known I needed.

Poor Edward, I was never ready for him. That would have taken years of growth and living that I simply hadn't had at the age of seventeen. And he was simply never ready for me. That would have taken a belief in himself and his own essential goodness so that he might believe he was worthy of my love.

At heart, I think Edward was a pessimist. And the failure of our relationship can be bound up together in that essential truth. It was neither his fault nor mine. I wasn't too much of a human and he wasn't too much of a vampire. The disastrous birthday would not have been the nail in the coffin of our relationship, if it wasn't for the fact that Edward saw it that way. And he would not have been able to leave me in the woods if I had not let him. Since meeting Carlisle again, and enduring the last five years, I have learned that there is nothing that cannot be lived through if the determination and belief are there. In the end, as tragic as it may seem, Edward didn't believe in us, in our love, in our relationship, and that we could move forward together. And I did not believe in him, his love, and the idea that I was worthy of him.

He was his own worst enemy, aided and abetted by a girlfriend who simply didn't understand why he couldn't see the beauty of their love like she could, but also was afraid it would all disappear.

I was so young then. So young, and so undamaged. And yet, I know that everything that happened then led me to my today. I have no anger left at Edward, only sorrow that, in the end, he did not believe himself worthy of love, and I wasn't strong enough to make him.

The sawing motion was complete and Carlisle yelled, "Timber!" once again pulling me from my thoughts. I giggled at the entirely human action of my vampire and smiled indulgently at his happy face.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, hefting it up onto his shoulder. The tree was enormous, but he held it up as if it was a weed. I shook my head with a smile. Somehow, I just didn't think I would ever get beyond my awe of immortals. At least not as a human anyway.

"Best tree ever," I said, smiling. I picked up the discarded saw and put the safety case back on it. We then began walking back to Carlisle's house and as we did, I smiled to myself. Best tree ever; best Christmas ever.

"_Sleigh bells rings, are you listening?_"

His perfect baritone serenaded us home.

* * *

_CPOV_

I remember the first Christmas tree I ever saw. Such a declaration would not be surprising to any vampire with the gift for perfect memory, but what makes it different in this case is that I first saw one when I was a human. When I was near four or five, Christmas and all other High Holy Days were outlawed by the Commonwealth as festivals, and became strictly religious observances only. It wasn't until I was near seventeen or eighteen that they returned to the festivals and spirited revels of before my birth, but by then I was in Seminary and not allowed to partake in them. When I left Seminary I was twenty-two, or near abouts, and it was only then that I would experience the first real Christmastide I can remember.

There was a family that lived not far removed from the vicarage where I passed my youth, and later the last year of my mortal life. They were Germanic by birth, yet the younger generations had never set foot in any part of the Rhineland. They had fled the state of Cleves when the last duke died and the province fell into its troubles. The men of the family were weavers by trade. Of an old line, their craft was legendary from the moment they immigrated to London. There was even a tapestry that the patriarch, Dietrich, had presented to King James, which afterward hung in Whitehall Palace. The son, Johan, took up his father's trade as a matter of course, becoming one of the foremost weavers in the City.

Dietrich had been a member of the Weaver's Guild in Cleves, and there they kept a Christmas tree in their guildhall. This tradition was one the family replicated in their own home when they settled in England. They cut the tree down from one of the forests along the Thames, then had it floated down river to London Bridge. I remember that day so clearly, for it was a Market day, and I was free from my duties and had the pleasure of seeing the men carrying their large spruce down the narrow lanes of Southwark, while needles of sweet smelling pine fell behind them.

My curiosity as to their purpose had me inquiring of one of the local shopkeepers as to what the weavers meant to do with the tree. He informed me of the Germanic customs, and how the tree would be decorated. His words proved true, for the rest of the season, until Twelfth Night, every time I passed by the window of the weaver's home, I saw the tree lit in the window. It was decorated with apples, nuts, dried fruit, and fabric chains and flowers, along with lit tapers affixed to the tree's many branches. I remember that the shopkeeper thought them quite mad, and the idea of Christmas trees would not catch on in England until centuries later, but seeing that tree, that Christmas, was a memory that would become, in time, infinitely precious to me.

Now, centuries later, another Christmas tree was dominating my thoughts.

"It's still leaning to the left," Bella commented, her voice containing a hint of frustration.

"And I am telling you," I rejoined, "that it is perfectly straight as it is."

Our discussion was taking place in the middle of my living room which looked as if it had been in an explosion of Christmas ornaments and tinsel. Bella hadn't wanted us to cut down more than one tree because she thought it was an unnecessary waste, but she refused to purchase a fake tree. As a result, my house had become the de facto Christmas headquarters for our little celebration for two.

"It's my last Christmas as a human," Bella had said when we first spoke of it. She seemed to have decided that indeed, she would be changing after the holiday season. "And I want to make sure it is the best one it can possibly be. I am going to be going all out. I'm talking caroling, Christmas tree lighting in the town square, ice skating, and the biggest tree we can find. Be prepared."

I couldn't decide later whether I should take her words as a threat or not.

"Carlisle?" Bella said, pulling my attention back to the present.

"It's fine, Bella. Let's decorate it while we're still young, please."

"Hardy-har-har," Bella muttered. "Don't crush the spirit of Christmas, Scrooge."

"I'm not," I said, "but give the fact that I have advanced and acute vampire vision, I guarantee you that the tree is straight."

"Fine," she muttered. "Let's start with the lights then."

"Thank you, Lord," I muttered.

"I heard that!"

"You were meant to," I called back, laughing. After checking to make sure all the lights worked, I put them on, wrapping them around the branches in places. We used more strings of light than Alice usually did, she often took the minimalist approach to Christmas, but the effect, when it was finished, was worth it. The branches were decked with cherry red bows and gold beads. Ornaments from Bella's childhood, ones she had saved, hung on the branches intermixed with glass balls, snowflakes, and angels that we had bought. The first of many purchases we would make together. And at the top, a single crystal star sat, beautiful in its perfection and simplicity. It looked spectacular to me, so I was pleased that Bella looked similarly affected. With a smile on my face, I stepped back from the tree and wrapped an arm around her waist.

The snow was starting to come down again outside, and the glow of the sun was hidden behind the clouds as twilight approached. The parlor was warm and lit from the fire, and I couldn't help but think that I was being given a glimpse of perfection in that moment. With Bella in my arms, I felt complete. Happiness was a rare commodity, but I had been gifted it in abundance. First with my family and all our years together, and then, when I thought I had lost everything, with the re-entrance of a lost friend into my life. My Creator was merciful indeed.

"What are you thinking about?"

I looked down at Bella's beautiful upturned face and smiled. "Happiness." I then ducked my head to kiss her.

Kissing Bella was unlike anything else in the world. It was heady, like drinking a fine wine that made your head spin and your blood dance. I remember little human food and drink, but I do remember wine and Bella was that personified. Everything about her was special, and everything about her was worth protecting. Nothing in the world was more precious to me.

Her lips softly and tentatively pressed back at me and I deepened the kiss, parting her mouth and stroking her silky tongue with my own. I was always very careful about my teeth and had explained to Bella why she should never touch them with her tongue. She had taken that as a challenge, I think, to be as inventive as possible. Instead of deep and unrestrained kissing, my body had become her hostage. And I was certainly a willing captive.

Pulling back from me slightly, Bella reached for the hem of my sweater and pulled it up and over my head. When my chest was revealed, she stood in silence for a moment. I thought the expression on her face was admiration, but I couldn't be sure. "Bella?" I asked tentatively.

"Shh," she replied softly. "I'm awestruck."

"You saw me yesterday."

She blushed. "Yesterday I was distracted. Now, I am being appreciative, so hush."

And with that, she reached out her hands and gently traced the definition of my muscles on my abdomen and then my chest, her fingers running through the sparse golden hair. Her hands were warm and soft, like hot oil on my skin. She gently stroked and touched, learning me, before eventually kissing the top of my left shoulder. "You're beautiful," she whispered.

"Bella," I murmured, cupping her face in my hands.

"I think I could stare at you for millennia and never grow tired of the sight," she said softly. Her bright brown eyes met mine and she asked, "Is that so very strange?"

"We all have our quirks," I said on a grin.

She laughed, "Yes, and mine is to be a voyeur."

"No need to be a voyeur when I wish for you to be an active participant," I replied, leaning down to kiss her once more.

Kissing Bella felt right, like nothing else had before. It was almost like a tug in my heart, a confirmation of the soul. I was where I was supposed to be, and that was an end to it.

As our relationship had progressed, I had waited for the guilt and the shame to come. I had waited for my latent fears and insecurities to come to the fore, but when they didn't I was amazed and deeply relieved. Part of me, of course, would forever regret that being with Bella would lose me my son. I knew, without question, the depth of Edward's love for Bella. And I also knew that this was one sin that he would not forgive.

Edward was surprisingly accommodating when it came to the mistakes and failings of others. Countless times he had picked up and moved when Emmett or Esme or Alice or Jasper had slipped and nearly exposed us, and every time it was done with nary a complaint. He endured the "Rosalie show", as he called it, at dealt with having the intrusive thoughts of others constantly in his mind. And though I think he resented me at times for creating him at all, he had still opened up his whole heart and become my dearest friend and companion.

But he would not forgive this.

When Edward met Bella, there had been an almost instinctive rush of feeling on his part and a desire to protect her. Though he did not liken those feelings to love until later, it had been plain to many of us that Bella was not just another mindless human to Edward's eyes, though we did not know why. And then, after, when the resisting had been abandoned and he had given in to the abundance of emotion that he felt for her, he had been like a different person all together. Transported, in a way.

It had been wonderful to watch. My staid and untrusting son, bound up in the thrill of a first love. I had wanted to assure him, to counsel him, but there was little I could say to him. He had his own ideas from the start, and would brook no refusal or alteration to them. Looking back now, I wish that I had been more involved, but my focus had been split between my duties at the hospital and my deteriorating relationship with Esme. Though I had avoided thinking about it then, the cracks had been there for years and they had often given me pause. I was deeply concerned over my own dissatisfaction and my own lack of enthusiasm at improving things.

It seemed a million years ago now.

And perhaps everything worked out exactly as it should, even if it broke my heart to know that my separation with Edward would be an enduring one. Vampires don't change unless they are forced to. My relationship with Esme proved that. We probably would have gone on as we did for a millennia, neither of us completely happy but without real cause to change it. Bella, and Victoria, and Edward gave us the impetus for change that we both needed. But just because I had grown and changed, even unknowingly, didn't mean Edward had.

I had told Bella that people change, even vampires, but I should have qualified it to say, _if they want to_. We have to want to, and I don't think any part of Edward ever would. I think Edward was happy playing the eternal lover, and it suited him in a way. His love for Bella would always be evergreen in his mind, because he wanted it to be. There would be no delay or confusion if and when he saw her again, Edward would simply carry on being in love with her.

Until he found out she had been taken by the one he trusted most, that is.

Perhaps I was being unfair to him, and perhaps he had come to the same conclusions as Bella. But it was simply impossible to know. I deeply doubted it, however. He was a constant thing, my son. Constant and true.

Were I a better man and less of a sinner, I would give her up. I would push Bella away from me and retreat to the safety of friendship and unspoken desires. But I was not a better man. I had my sins and imperfections, like so many, and I simply could not sacrifice the wonder that Bella brought to my life.

No, I could not.

Bella was like a symphony of color and music after a lifetime, or several, of black and white and silence. My feelings for her were varied and many, deepening constantly. Every time I thought I had discovered all her ideas and thoughts, she spoke a new one, or said something completely out of character. I never knew where she was going to lead me, and that, after centuries of unchanging tedium, was a rare gift.

"Carlisle," she murmured, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Yes," I whispered back, savoring the feeling of her warm hands on my shoulders.

"I want to be changed after Christmas," she said softly, smiling up at me tenderly.

"You don't want to see Charlie one last time?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No, I have done and seen enough. My dad and I had a wonderful visit over the summer. I saw Angela and Ben then too, as well as the Blacks. I said goodbye then to all of them and I know that I left them in a good place. I also saw my college friends in August too. And I saw my mom at Thanksgiving. I'm ready. Maybe on New Years, or just before?"

I nodded. "You should resign from your job, and tell your mom you are moving back to Jacksonville. Ship all your stuff and sell your house. The Jenkensons are looking to buy, and I bet they would make you a good offer. The key is to get the focus off of Calais. We can fake a car accident in Maryland or thereabouts."

She took a tremulous breath and then straightened her shoulders. "And what about the body?"

"A fire or an accident in a body of water will work. Water is better as they are getting more and more advanced with forensics these days."

She nodded, and then blew out her breath in a gush. "I never thought of all the things we would have to do to avoid detection."

"It is just safer that way," I said softly. "Humans generally find the explanation where they need to and look no further, but with Charlie being an officer of the law…I simply want all of our bases covered, understand?"

Bella nodded again. "Yes, I get it. It's just, wow. It became real all of the sudden."

"Remember Bella," I said softly. "There is no rush."

"No," she said, determination rife in her voice. "I want it this way, at this time. I feel like this is how it should be."

Seeing her, in that moment, looking so desirable in the light of the fire made my heart seem to leap from my chest. Though there was no beat and no blood, in that moment I could truly feel it. I felt so alive and so blessed. There was nothing I wouldn't do for her, nothing I wouldn't give to her. For this fragile human who held my heart, I would take on the world itself, gladly. Here she was, ready and willing to turn her back on the sun and join me in the darkness. I was unworthy of her trust and affection, and yet I would savor both and cherish them for as long as I walked the earth.

"I love you," I said quietly.

The words tumbled from my lips without being summoned, and yet they were exactly what I wanted to say and tell her. For as long as I lived, for the rest of eternity, I would love no one but her. I would care and devote myself to no other. Vampires can change with reason, and she was my final reason. My life, my love.

She gave me a soft smile. "I know. I love you too."

Her gentle response lit my heart and gave wings to my soul. This was how it was supposed to be: easy and right. There was no hesitation in her voice, no unequal emotion. What we felt was pure and given voice at the exact moment that it should have been.

"I know," I answered. We both laughed. There was no rush to declare, no misunderstanding or fear of response. We were both perfectly secure in the knowledge that we were equally loved and desired.

In that moment, I knew several things. One, that I would love no other woman in my very long life. Two, that in Bella I had found the person I had waited for and despaired of ever finding. And three, that I would marry her some day.

There was no question in my mind that we were headed there. I knew Bella's conflicted feelings about marriage, but I also knew that between us there could be no doubt. When I finally asked, when time had passed and we were both ready, I knew what her answer would be. Bella Swan was going to be my wife, and I was going to be her husband.

I wanted to take her, in every way. My normally reticent mind might have shied away from such a thought in normal circumstances, but now I felt no need to. In my heart, and in God's eyes, I was certain that ours was a lasting union. I would never leave this wonderful creature, as she was the greatest gift I could have ever received. And I was going to treat her like the present she was. I would not spit on that which my Creator felt fit to give me.

Looking into my true love's eyes, there was perfect understanding. Smiling gently, I leaned down and kissed the woman that I loved and said, "Let's go to bed, love."

With a loving smile, Bella took my hand and left the parlor and all its Christmas dreams behind. We walked slowly up the stairs, the step of our feet matching time to the beat of Bella's heart. When we reached my room, it seemed only natural for me to lean over and lift Bella into my arms before carrying her across the threshold. Once we were inside, I gently lowered her down in front of me.

With no virginal shyness, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed me.

It felt like the end of a very long journey and the beginning of a new one.

In most events, I suppose, there must be a natural beginning and an end. With Bella, all my beginnings and endings were wrapped up in natural unison.

Together, she and I, as in all things.

* * *

_A deep apology is owed to all my readers who have been patiently waiting for over a year for an update. I have many excuses, but none of them suffice. I can only say that I was fighting myself on the direction of this story for a long time. It seemed to be naturally progressing towards an ending and storyline that I knew to be unpopular in fanfiction. (Don't worry, it will be happy!) Eventually, I realized that I had to write the story that was in me and trust that my readers would love it for its sincerity. This is already a non-canon story, and that will only continue as time goes on. That means pairings might be introduced later, such as for Edward, which are not canon. I also want to bring back in the other Cullens, especially the characters of Edward, Emmett, and Rosalie, and that won't feel organic unless I follow the story as it is meant to be. And in order to give the characters stories that fit them, I can't be afraid of ruffling a few feathers._

_This story, as it continues, will be extremely faithful to canon histories, but only to the events in the Twilight Books up until page 84 of New Moon. Everything after that is fair game. That said, I have several further chapters of this story completed and will be posting them in weekly intervals until it is all up. I wanted to wait until the story was finished before posting again, but I became impatient. I have also gone back and edited the previous chapters for spelling and grammatical errors, and added a few lines here and there for coherency. I have also changed an epigraph or two, but there were no changes made to the plot of the story._

_The line "Edward claimed that human minds were like a sieve, and that time heals all wounds for humans" is paraphrased from New Moon, page 72._

_The line "We all have our quirks," is taken from Chapter Three of Midnight Sun. I don't necessarily consider it canon as it has never been published and is subject to change, but it is good for source material._

* * *

_To Be Continued…_


	12. Part I: Of Passion and Plenty

_This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are now, and those other times are running elsewhere._  
— _Possession_, _A.S. Byatt_

* * *

_Chapter Twelve — Of Passion and Plenty_

_BPOV_

The moment my feet touched the plush, Persian carpet—any insecurities and fears I had carried, or thought to carry, melted away. This was _Carlisle_. The most gentle, loving, and kind man I had ever known. He would never cause me pain intentionally, nor would he allow me to be hurt if it was in his power to prevent it. His nature was such that he could cause no ill, only cure it. To be in his arms felt natural, felt right. I was very certain that if I walked this Earth from top to bottom that no where would ever feel like home except in his arms.

His hands were tender, gently stroking the flesh of my skin from wrists to elbows in a soothing repetitive motion. Without thought or hesitation, I stood up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his. There was something so right about kissing him. It was as if, when our lips touched, things fell into place. Like all the world was a mighty stranger to me, and I was unsure of my place in such a world, but then I kissed him—then what was two sets of lips became one, interlocking together, and righting the world. I couldn't explain such a thing to him; I could barely explain it to myself. And yet, something needed to be said.

"This feels so right," I murmured, my lips still brushing his. "Like nothing else has before or will again."

"I know what you mean," he whispered, his voice low and rough. There was no mighty vampire with me now, only a needy man. "Being with you is like…well, like nothing I've known before. I have lived over three hundred and sixty years, I have traveled the world, and seen everything there is to see, but when I am with you…you make the world new again, Isabella."

Tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them back, determined to let nothing mar my vision of his perfect face. "Make love to me, Carlisle."

"Yes," he answered, ducking his head to mine once more.

The tempered sensuality between us exploded then, leaving cautious restraint far behind. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to him, assaulting and caressing my mouth with his clever lips. His hands, meanwhile, went to work on my sweater, tugging it from the waistband of my jeans and lifting it up and over my head. It caught on my ponytail briefly, so once it was off I reached up and took down my hair. I let it fall over my shoulders and down my back. Carlisle liked that, I could see. His pupils dilated as he took in my hair. With tender hands, he reached out and took a piece of it from off my shoulders.

He rubbed it back and forth between his fingers, and rasped, "Like mahogany-colored silk." Carlisle then brushed it back and trailed his fingers down from my shoulders to over the demi-cups of my bra. His nimble hands found the front clasp of my bra and made short work of it, pulling it off me and tossing it to the side, where it landed on the floor.

I had never bared my breasts to anyone before. It hadn't been a conscious decision; it had simply never happened. As a result, I was now in what should have been a fairly nerve-wracking moment, utterly vulnerable. But the thing was—I didn't feel vulnerable at all, not in the slightest.

I felt desired.

Carlisle's eyes had darkened to ebony black, but I was not afraid. He wasn't hungry, at least not for blood. His desire, his thirst, was for me. It was an exhilarating feeling, to know that I could influence him, make him feel as I did. To know that all that I felt, all that I thought, and all that I desired from him was reciprocated and requited.

With steady hands, Carlisle cupped my breasts, plumping them. I shivered at the contact.

"Cold?"

I nodded a bit. It was true; his hands _were_ cold. And to feel something akin to ice on my nipples was not the most pleasant of sensations, especially with the chill in the air of the room. Carlisle frowned a bit, as if considering a mighty problem to be solved, and then his face softened and he smiled again. "Come with me," he said, taking me by the hand.

He led me into his extravagant bathroom and over to the shower. I had never been upstairs in his house before, but the little I had seen of it now did not surprise me. It was elegant and tasteful, combining rich color with artful dark, wood furnishings. Very much the English manor house.

But his bathroom was different than expected. In slight awe, I looked around at the room. Marble tile gave way to floor to ceiling mirrors and wide, tall windows that looked out over the forest. The fixtures were gold, polished to perfection. To the right side stood a huge, whirlpool tub that I was dying to try from the moment I saw it. Just behind it was a glass enclosure that looked big enough for two and had nozzles on either side. It was there that Carlisle stood.

He turned on the shower at both ends, and with such powerful sprays, steam quickly started accumulating. Turning back to me, Carlisle met my eyes. There was nothing in his expression but pure want, and I felt a little bit of a thrill run through me. He looked at me as though he knew something I did not, and I felt a rush of blood to my head, like I had stood too quickly and lost all sense of balance.

With calm decision, Carlisle reached for his belt, unbuckling it. He then unbuttoned his pants and let them slide to the floor. He stepped neatly out of them. I was momentarily distracted by the fact that his feet were bare. When had he taken off his shoes and socks? My little mental vacation ended when I noticed all that Carlisle had revealed. He still wore boxers, and true I was seeing nothing that I wouldn't if he was in a swim suit, but still it was shocking. Shocking and powerful.

Every inch of him was sculpted muscle. It was perfectly defined. He was like Michelangelo's David, stunning in his lines and perfected in his curves. Marble-like shoulders gave way to a carved chest and stomach, tapering to narrow hips. His legs were long, lightly sprinkled with hair that matched the gold of his head and chest. He was pale, true, and it was so much more obvious when I saw the whole of his body, but it was nothing to my own natural pallor. It was refreshing, in a way. We matched.

I wanted to reciprocate. I _needed_ to reciprocate. We were equals, always. So, with sure hands, I unbuttoned my jeans and let them fall. I quickly kicked off my socks as well, and I am sure that it was less than graceful, but it was accomplished quickly. When I stood tall again, I became aware that Carlisle was watching me with hooded eyes. He seemed to be drinking me in, taking in every curve and plane.

Had I been younger, or perhaps more inexperienced, I think I might have been fearful at this moment, or at least feeling a slight sense of panic. But I understood much more now than if I had experienced this in high school or college. I had roommates in the latter who described their experiences in vivid detail, and I had stumbled on more than one drunken couple at parties. Though I had no practical experience myself, I still lacked trepidation of what was to come. This was the way it was supposed to be.

Exposed, I wondered for a moment about Carlisle's acute vampire vision, and for a second wanted to cover my body with my hands, but I forced myself to relax. Even if to his eyes I was nothing more than a plain human, the fact of the matter was—he had chosen me. He, Carlisle Cullen, gift to women everywhere, wanted me. I was so beyond looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Meeting my love's eyes, I tilted my head to the side and smiled, whispering softly, "Dear heart, how like you this?"

His eyes flared, and I knew he understood. On steady feet, he strode over to me and cupped my bottom, lifting me so that I had no choice but to wrap my legs around his torso. Our bodies aligned perfectly as I nestled his hardness between my legs. We were separated only by thin layers of cotton and lace, and I wondered idly if he could feel the heat I must have been surely giving off.

He claimed my lips again, shaping them and molding them to his own. They were cool, but the heat of mine quickly transferred and I could almost fancy a type of warmness from him. When he pulled his lips away, he dragged them along my skin and down to my neck. He licked and sucked the tendon there gently; teasing me and making me shudder.

The steam was close to filling the bathroom now, and Carlisle turned and walked us over to the shower. When we reached the glass door, he put me down and touched the tops of my lace boy shorts. When he raised an eyebrow at me, I nodded and let him pull them down my body. His eyes widened and then softened in an almost infinite tenderness. Tentatively, he reached out and traced a cold finger down the ugly scar that bisected my left hip and thigh. I tried not to tremble at the fact that his hand was not far from a region that only I had touched.

"How did this happen?" he asked gently, stroking the slightly puckered skin.

"Sailing competition, sophomore year," I replied breathily. "I got caught by the anchor when the boat pitched and I fell."

"I bet that put a crimp in the race," he said, still stroking my damaged flesh. There was affection in his touch.

I tried to keep my mind coherent, but all I could say was, "Not at all, my roommate Christine and I won and then went straight to the emergency room."

Carlisle laughed, kissing me again. My hands naturally fell to his abdomen, and landed on the elastic waistband of his boxers. With a large amount of nervous courage, I eased them down over his hips and they fell to the floor. I kept my eyes closed and continued to kiss my vampire, but I felt his hardness rise between us.

I felt, rather than saw, him reach behind us and open the door to the shower. More steam escaped immediately, and I could feel the heat of the water on my body without standing under it. It was a strange contrast, this cold man in whose arms I stood and the heat of the shower beckoning to me.

Carlisle stepped in without looking, concentrating on kissing me. I took one look and stepped in, and went straight back into his arms. The water was scalding, but I was protected in a way by my lover's freezing flesh. His arms were like steel bands around my back, wrapping me in coldness, while the water and the steam heated the parts of me exposed.

Pulling back from me, Carlisle stepped backward and stood under the full spray of the right showerhead. His hands came up to his hair and I was immediately gifted with the sight of his muscles clenching and contracting as he rubbed his scalp. It was an incredible sight and extremely arousing. Water sluiced over his body, following the dips and curves of his muscles like a dripping, clear curtain. I was suddenly put into mind the image of Apollo, bathing under a waterfall. I felt like Actaeon, intruding upon an image of majesty, not meant to be seen by human eyes. Would I too be turned into a mad animal for daring to look upon such an image?

And yet, he invited me to look. Under the hot spray was his invitation. He was mine to look upon, just as I was his.

And my Apollo truly was a god.

There was simply no other description for it. Everything was defined and flawless. Nothing had been left that would mark him as mortal. There were no scars, no freckles, and no imperfections. If any other human on Earth glimpsed him this way they would not doubt for a single moment that he was an immortal being.

Edward had once told me that everything about him invited me in—his voice, his face, even his smell. I had never understood what he meant. Sure he was a predator, but how could the window dressing affect the danger underneath? Wasn't a wolf still dangerous even if it came in beautiful fur? But now, standing in the hot shower, under the warmth of the spray, I understood perfectly what Edward had meant.

Everything about Carlisle was drawing me in. My hands practically itched to touch him. My fingers were clenching and unclenching, and looking at his naked form made my blood sing as it raced through my veins. I wanted, I _needed_, to be close to him. I was not mistress of myself; rather I was slave to the compulsion to touch, to taste. It didn't even cross my mind that he was a dangerous predator, not then, or that I should be afraid of the momentous step I was about to take. Instead, every cell in my body was screaming for contact.

He was inviting me in.

Carlisle must have become aware of the weight of my stare for his eyes slowly opened and met mine hotly. He stalked across the shower, small as it was, and pulled me to him. His skin was wet, warm, and hard. It still felt like marble, but there was a fantastic slickness to it that felt wonderful under my hands.

"You're beautiful," I whispered audibly, stroking my fingers down his broad chest.

"Isabella," he groaned.

Oh, yes, that was a wonderful sound to hear from his lips. More please.

Without warning, Carlisle lifted me again and pressed me against the tile of the shower. It should have been cold, but the feeling of his now warm, marble skin and the heat of the steam and water negated any chill from the tile. Our bodies were intimately touching now, his hardness in the crevice between my thighs, pressing upwards.

Our lips were dancing together, and his tongue was rapidly making me giddy with desire. Man, could he kiss! Where had he learned this? I shut down that thought immediately, not wanting to think of his previous lovers at that moment.

And then I stiffened.

Previous lovers, oh no! "Carlisle, wait…there is something I need to tell you," I managed to moan out.

"It can wait," he growled out, his voice vibrating against my neck.

Damn, that was hot. No, concentrate Swan! "No, you need to know this!"

"Later," he sighed, claiming my lips again and cupping my left breast.

"Wait, wait," I said. "I need to tell you this." The slight edge of panic must have finally got to him, because he let me down and stepped back. I took a breath, and then another. How the hell did I tell him this without it being totally awkward and strange? Lucky for me, or unluckily depending on your point of view, my rambling saved me and blurted it out before I could stop the words. "I've never done this before."

There, it was done. Now the truth was out in the open and we could get back to the kissing and the touching and the pleasure.

But he didn't touch me again. He was staring at me in confusion, like he was wondering why on earth I had stopped him to tell him something like that. I momentarily felt stung. It might not be a big deal in this day and age, and I was more than ready to give up my v-card, but I still couldn't believe I was getting no reaction at all. Maybe he was shocked? Maybe he would call a halt to the whole thing? Was being the first too much? I was practically waiting for him to turn off the taps and show me the door.

Instead, he cocked his head to the side and simply said, "I know."

Huh? What?

I stuttered out, "How do you know? I mean, I told you I hadn't been in a _relationship_ since Edward. How do you know I haven't been having anonymous one-night stands?"

Carlisle paused and then shook his head. For a moment, I could have almost sworn that the expression that crossed his face was embarrassment. But it was gone quickly enough and he simply said, "I know because of your scent."

"Huh?" Oh, well done, Bella. Very articulate.

"A woman's scent alters after she has had intercourse," Carlisle murmured. His voice was very much like the doctor he is, but pitched lower in an intimate fashion. "It isn't noticeably apparent to humans, but it is to vampires. Virgin blood smells different. Virgin blood is softer, fuller. After, it becomes sharper and weaker."

Okay, this was too weird but now I was totally curious, and that rid me of my embarrassment. "You mean if she still has her hymen?"

"No," Carlisle said, shaking his head. "It's something chemical. For all I know, it is as much magic as science. The ancients certainly understood it though. That is why virgin blood is called for in human sacrifices. It has nothing to do with purity or physicality, it just is." He winced suddenly. "Glad you asked, right? One more abnormal vampire thing for you to deal with."

I simply laughed, and shook my head. "Sorry for freaking out a bit, I thought you didn't know and might be surprised."

He smiled and took me back into his arms, allowing me to rest my head on his broad chest. "I knew," he said softly, "and I am honored that I will be the first."

I looked up at him then and responded, just as softly, "And the only."

He nodded. "And the only. I love you, Isabella Swan, and it is a great gift you are giving to me."

My breath caught as I looked up into his soft and tender eyes. How was it that he could say these amazing and sweet things to me? Most men would just ignore it or treat it like something to be done, but somehow this amazing vampire made the rending of my virginity seem like a gift. I knew from his perspective, and the time that he hailed from, it was just that, but to be honest I had always thought myself somewhat freakish to still be a virgin at twenty-three. But standing there in Carlisle's arms, while he looked at me with the most incredible love in his eyes, I suddenly was incredibly glad that I had never tossed it away to some drunken fling with a frat boy. To that nameless person it would have meant nothing; to Carlisle it meant everything. And, because of that, it suddenly meant everything to me as well.

"I love you," I said softly.

"Forever," he whispered, gathering me back to his body and lifting me once more in his arms.

His lips wasted no time, returning to my neck with haste, but there was a difference to his movements now. He was touching and cupping my flesh, savoring everything as he went. Eventually, his mouth moved to my breasts, and he took one nipple into his mouth and began to suck. It should have been cold and uncomfortable, but the temperature and heat of the water falling around and on me kept me so warm that I felt nothing but pleasure.

The steam of the shower billowed all around us, and I breathed deeply in his arms. I felt as though every part of me were opening, like every one of my cells was thrumming to life after a lifetime of sleep. I was adrift in sensation, as cell by cell awoke to a strange new world.

Eventually, the torture ended and Carlisle lifted his head, his eyes bearing into mine. No words passed between us, but I seemed to know what he wanted anyway. My hands reached out, strumming gently down his chest, stroking and tracing images that meant nothing. Vaguely, I wondered what my fingers felt like to him. Where they like the sudden brush of a feather, ephemeral and gentle? Or did the pads of my slight digits actually make an impression that tied to his pleasure? The water added another sensation, wrapping us and cocooning us in feeling.

Leaning in, I kissed him gently, quickly, and repeatedly. They were drinking kisses; meant not to savor, but to sip. Reaching up my hands, I ran them through his wet hair, dragging my nails along his scalp. To my surprise, he groaned and his eyelids fluttered closed. I continued for a while before running my lips along his jaw and then down to his neck, along which I dragged my teeth. The wet skin beneath my mouth tasted sweet, like strawberries and cream, and I happily sucked and nipped at it. After a few moments, Carlisle bucked suddenly against me, his chest shuddering suddenly.

"That feels amazing," he practically growled.

I felt incredibly powerful at that moment. Had I truly done that? Had I brought pleasure to this magical being?

Repeating the movement of my mouth, Carlisle groaned again. Then, to my surprise, he reached his fingers down between us and began to touch my tender flesh. In shock, I bit down on his neck. The softness of my action prevented my teeth from jarring against his marble flesh, and the answering moan made my action well worth it. I would have continued in this vein, but Carlisle's clever fingers made it impossible to focus.

How did he know just where to touch me? Unerringly, he found the spots and ridges that had taken me years to fully discover. I was quickly hurtling towards climax as he pressed two fingers inside me and another against my distended nub. He circled and flicked, drawing out the moans I had wanted to keep silent. I was quickly losing control, breaking in front of another person as I had never done before. And then, just before my crisis, he moved his hand away.

"No," I moaned out, my words not my own. "Please."

"Bella, look at me," he said.

I could do nothing but obey.

My eyes, which had clenched shut when I was not aware, hesitantly opened, blinking tentatively before lifting to meet his own. When they did, when we met in that moment, there was a sort of instant communion that I could barely understand. His obsidian eyes were full of want and heat and love—oh, love, of course—and I suddenly felt a warmth in me that was not from the water. It started in my belly, extending to all my extremities before traveling inward and setting fire to my heart.

This was what it was supposed to be like. This, this overpowering, all-consuming, needy, desperate thing. How had I been so lucky as to find it?

Me, being nothing, with him, who was everything.

Our bodies, already entwined by limbs, entwined once more as he conquered my unclaimed flesh. He slid into me, stretching me and molding me to him. I was pliant in his arms, meeting his eyes, watching every flicker in their depths. Oh, yes, loveliness.

When he reached the natural barrier of my body, he suddenly kissed me and broke through. I cried out and then hissed, but any pain I felt was quickly dissipated by the coolness of his flesh, like ice on a bruise. The pain was gone almost instantly, and I soon forgot it had been there at all. My mind was simply focused on the wonderful fullness of having him so deep within my body, becoming part of me and flesh of my flesh.

He murmured apologies against my lips and then begged me to open my eyes once more. Tremulously, I did so. There I found sorrow and satisfaction. Sorrow, I thought, for the pain and satisfaction for the feeling.

When he was fully seated inside me, there was an endless moment when he did not move at all. It was in that moment that I understood the meaning of becoming one body, but it was truly more like becoming one heart. My love for him was swimming all within me, like a current in the sea.

And then he moved.

With every thrust of his body, I was buffeted in a whirl of sensation. His eyes continued to meet mine, heightening the sensation and the emotion. I was no longer in control of my body, and could not prevent the tears that leaked over my cheeks and down my neck to join the water on my skin. The feeling, oh the feeling, was like nothing I could describe, and yet it felt right, as well as pleasurable. My skin tightened and heated, and when he leaned down and kissed me, stroking our tongues together, I lost all rational thought. The intensity of what I felt was like the climbing of stairs, or of racing down a mountain as the wind sailed by. My blood and flesh coiled, tightening tighter and tighter, until I slammed my eyes shut and all was let go.

My body clasped and clamped down, my muscles clenched, and I cried out.

The pleasure was so intense that I was tightening my fingers around his cold flesh, desperately trying to find purchase. My toes were curled up, and my thighs began to burn. I felt his cold release inside of me, and then my screams turned to moans and pants.

Nothing I had known had prepared me for this. Books were lies and movies were worse. The true heat and the feel of passion was transporting compared to the stories I had heard. But then, how could such feelings truly be described? Scene by scene, or page by page was too clinical. Our movements could not be defined by words, such inadequate tools. Instead, I shall remember them in the sensations of those moments, and in the bliss that followed.

He had claimed me, turned my body against me and then back again, giving me pleasure and pain and love and sensation.

Exhausted, I finally rested my head on his shoulder, unable to move further.

I had been claimed. I had been conquered.

But then I kissed his neck, and my lover shuddered against me in reflexive motion.

He had been claimed and conquered too.

My beloved is mine, and I am his.

* * *

_CPOV_

It was the sensation of her tiny fingers stroking up and down my back that roused me from my stupor. I had not even thought it possible, but I was wrung out. It was as if my vampire mind had deserted and betrayed me, leaving me with a mind so human that, when confronted with intense stimulus, it could do naught but shut down in an attempt to recover. Such a thing had never happened to me before.

In my many years, I had worshiped at the body of a woman. I had drunk from the cup of pleasure, and yet none of that, not all the years or the times or the ways, had prepared me for what it would be like to take Bella. I couldn't have conceived of what it would be like, nor could I have known that such sensations were possible. True, my experience was limited to one other woman and a nearly ninety year marriage, but I had thought I had known all there was to know.

Ignorance, thy name is Carlisle.

Looking down at the nymph in my arms, curled up as she was, I could scarcely understand what had just happened. What should have been tentative and uncertain had been intoxicating and transporting. Bella had barely touched me and my body had begun to respond. The gentle brush and touch of her fingers had been like fire licking under my skin. The feeling of her teeth and lips on my neck had made me nearly come against her like a green boy. And that moment, when I had first been inside her after breaching the barrier of her innocence, had been the most exquisite feeling of my very long life.

Why had I been blessed thus? Had I served God in some way I was unknowing of, and thereby received such a reward in recompense? I felt not fit for and undeserving of such a treasure. The gift of Bella's body, of her love, seemed too pure and too holy to be bestowed upon me. I should not have dared profane her with my unworthy hands, yet it had been done and I would not give her up now. She, my dearest love, was mine to cherish.

She was draped over me, much like a limpet. Our most intimate flesh was still joined, and we were pressed against each other in such a way that felt more intimate than anything we had done before. I tightened my arms around her and took in a deep breath.

"Sweetheart," I asked, kissing Bella's temple. "Are you well?"

"Mmhmm," she answered giddily, wringing a chuckle from my chest.

"Can you move at all, darling?"

She shook her head no, causing me to laugh again.

With careful hands, I slowly lifted her off of me, both of us groaning when our bodies parted. In the circle of my arms, we moved under the hot spray. Holding Bella up, I reached out and took down the body wash that was on the rack. I put a dollop in my hands, running my palms together and creating a soapy lather before putting my hands to Bella's body.

Her eyes were heavy and lidded as she watched me. I moved down over her shoulders and back, tenderly cupping each cheek of her _derrière, _and then down her legs. Kneeling on the cool floor of the shower, I gently lifted each foot before rubbing the gel up each leg to her thighs, washing away evidence of our mutual love. I did the right leg and then the left, leaving no part of her not adored. My hands then moved to her arms, spreading the lather. When I moved my way down to her hands, I lifted them and kissed the pads of her fingers one by one, taking them into my mouth and swirling my tongue around the tips. I heard Bella let out a gasp, but I was not to be deterred. I was in the midst of worship.

It was only after I had finished with her hands that I moved to the front of her body. With reverence, I traced the line of her clavicle, letting my fingers ghost over the fragile bones under her skin. I then moved down the hollow between her breasts, letting the soapy bubbles accumulate there. Finally, I moved to her ribs and down her stomach, pressing one kiss to her soft flesh there. I silently mourned for a moment that her body would never grow ripe with my child, never expand so that our son or daughter might live, but then I forced that thought away. Despite my sadness, I knew I could not be greedy. God had given me a cherished gift in Bella. I would not be ungrateful and ask for more. Besides, with Bella in my arms now was not the time for sadness or mourning, but for fullness and love.

Once I was done, I led her to stand under the spray, letting all the soap wash away and the heat of the water massage her muscles. It was only then that I washed her hair. My hands caressed and separated the long tresses, rubbing her scalp with shampoo before rinsing. When she was clean, I pulled her into my arms once more and pressed tender kisses to her face, before meeting at her mouth.

"I adore you," I whispered against her lips. "Mere words cannot suffice. My whole heart, my whole being, all that I am and more, you have claimed. Ask me for anything, anything in the world and I shall devote my eternity to granting it to you. Bid me to do anything for you, I am yours to command. Tell me what you desire; I shall not rest until it is yours. Nothing I have, not even my own heart, belongs to me anymore. It is all yours, just as I am."

I met her eyes, trying desperately to convey the depth of my meaning. "There shall never be another, Bella. I will walk this world with only you by my side, my second self, and my best earthly companion."

Her hands were resting on my chest, and I covered them with my own. She looked up at me, utter trust and complete love in her gaze. What she saw must have conveyed the depth of my sincerity, because tears filled her eyes, and she nodded. Softly, lovingly, she said, "None but you. I will love you always, I know that now. I had thought I knew the true capacity of my heart, but I think I have not even begun to reach its depths. All I know is this: it belongs entirely to you."

Love rushed through me at her words, and I met her lips with a soft kiss. My soul felt as though it was unraveling, as if the ribbons that had made up the chambers of my heart were beginning to loosen, expanding outwards…outwards towards Bella. In an almost fanciful notion, I believed that my soul was connecting to hers, joining it and connecting our bodies by a thread of loving communion.

I did not, I could not, believe myself to be my own master anymore. I belonged to Bella. Where once were two, now there was only one entity. In the blood, in the body, in the soul and heart, we were bound up together, united from this moment onward.

Had I been able to tell the passion, the love, that I felt, I am sure it would have sounded like nonsense. Like syrupy poetry to assault the ears, because what I felt could not be explained. There was no calculating such excess, no counting the measure of such love. For if any could but try to put my love to words, they would have no success. They would not come close to even brushing my true feelings. I was unmanned by these feelings, but I could not summon the strength to care.

Looking at my love, I rejoiced in the tired smile she granted me. With soothing sounds, I picked her up in my arms while turning off the spray of the shower heads. I took a warm towel with me, returning to the bedroom we had left what seemed life so long ago. I placed her on the bed, before once again caring for her body. I dried every inch of her, blotting the excess of water from her hair. When I was done, I helped her lay down under the covers. Once I had turned on the electric blanket, I joined her.

I savored the feeling of her in my arms, knowing I would cool eventually, and even the blanket would not suffice, forcing me to move away. But for now, I could hold Bella close and kiss her face as she slipped away to dream. There was a rightness to her being with me like this, naked and well loved. I was reminded of that first moment when I had taken her hand within my own. The rightness of it had surprised me then, but I know now it was just a prelude of things to come. Our hands fit together just as we fit together. It was as if we had been made to and for each other.

Suddenly, in that moment with Bella sleeping in my arms, I understood completely. The why of it had escaped me before, but now I knew.

We had mated.

Bella and I were mates.

That fanciful joining of our souls had not been in my mind, but the actual coming together of two people who belonged at each other's side. We were not merely two beings in love…we were soul mates.

I hadn't even thought it possible between a human and a vampire, not giving the stories I had heard about mates any real credence. My mind was racing as I suddenly thought back, trying to understand how I had missed such an obvious thing. My skepticism of the phenomena dated back to before meeting Esme. Siobhan had tried to explain it to me; had tried to explain the depths of her feelings for Liam. I had never truly understood. I had thought I felt that with Esme, but the level of unbreakable devotion had never been like Siobhan had described. It was clear to me now that vampires could love without being mated. The only real way a vampire ever experiences change is through love, but I had thought that the extent of it.

How wrong I was! I could see it now, so clearly as I thought back to all I knew. Vampires could change because of love, yes, this was true. Like Tanya, Kate, and Irina had all changed their diet because they loved the men they took as lovers and could not bear to kill them. Like Jasper, a being of war, had left it all behind to become a man of peace for Alice. For love I had changed the members of my family, but there were many levels of love. Vampires change because of love, but mating was something that changed vampires.

When Esme and I divorced, I thought that the idea of mates was exaggerated and that vampires could love many people, like humans. It was obvious to me now that, yes, vampires could love others, like Tanya and her sisters, but once the mate was found, and reciprocated the emotion, it was inextricable.

_This_ had been why Carmen had been able to lead Eleazar away from the Volturi, why Benjamin had risked everything to find Tia, why Marcus mourned Didyme eternally, and why Peter would follow Charlotte to the ends of the earth. There was simply no one else, could be no one else, _would_ be no one else. It wasn't that I hadn't loved Esme enough, it was simply that I couldn't love her in the complete way I knew I loved Bella. What I felt for the woman in my arms was so absolute, so unbreakable that I knew that were she ever to die I would follow shortly after. There was no longer a me without her.

So much did I love her, that with her, all deaths I could endure, but without her—I could live no life.

As I felt Bella's chest gently rise and fall against my own, I breathed deep, taking in the scent of her, cherishing every moment I could spend in her presence. Never before had I been so glad that I did not require sleep. For how could I wish to miss a moment of this? I could not; I did not. I would protect her until she woke, and smile when her eyes once again met mine.

I would love her tomorrow, and all the days, and years, and centuries to follow. I would be hers, and she would be mine.

My most beloved mate; my most beloved wife.

My most beloved Isabella…who answered the question of my heart.

* * *

_When Bella calls the world "a mighty stranger" it is a phrase from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bront__ë__. Bella's line that begins "Dear heart…" is from "They Flee From Me" by Sir Thomas Wyatt. The poem is from the period of Henry the VIII, and thought to be written about his second wife, Anne Boleyn. Though the poem is from a century before Carlisle's birth, Bella meant it as an acknowledgment of Carlisle's past and her acceptance of it. "My beloved is mine, and I am his" is a line from the Song of Solomon. _

_In Carlisle's POV, he paraphrases Benedick's line from Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing: "__Come_, _bid me do anything for thee" and__ a Jane Eyre quote for Bella: "__I ask you to pass through life at my side - to be my second self and best earthly companion." He also thinks a line from Book IX of Paradise Lost, line 832, changing the wording slightly: "__So dear I love him, that with him all deaths I could endure, without him live no life." Also, the idea of souls connected by a loving thread of communion is from Jane Eyre._

_There are several examples in the Twilight series of couples who have different degrees of love for each other, and SM has even said that one had a stronger love than the other, if not in the text then in interviews. Couples that have been described thus are: James and Victoria, Laurent and Irina, Amun and Kebi, Aro and Sulpicia, Riley and Victoria, Jasper and Maria ect. With these examples, an argument can be made that vamps don't just change for love, but are capable of having and loving more than one person. The term mates may mean something else entirely. It's my opinion that some couples in the books are mates and some are not. Now obviously, the books portray Esme and Carlisle as being mates, but we never really see into the inner workings of their relationship, so who knows? That's just my little take on it._

* * *

_To Be Continued...  
_


	13. Part I: Of Whispers and Wonders

_I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,_  
_When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;_  
_Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:_  
_The shapes a bright container can contain!_  
_Of her choice virtues only gods should speak,_  
_Or English poets who grew up on Greek_  
_(I'd have them sing in a chorus, cheek to cheek)._

_...  
_

_Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay:_  
_I'm martyr to a motion not my own;_  
_What's freedom for? To know eternity._  
_I swear she cast a shadow white as stone._  
_But who would count eternity in days?_  
_These old bones live to learn her wanton ways:_  
_(I measure time by how a body sways)._

_"I Knew A Woman," Theodore Roethke_

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen — Of Whispers and Wonders_

_CPOV_

The time passed away slowly, minutes becoming hours as the moon moved across the sky. To my immense surprise, the electric blanket allowed me to hold Bella for a good portion of that time, as did infrequent trips to the shower where I set the water to scalding. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling, startling, surely, but not uncomfortable. When you are a vampire you still feel cold and heat, but your body doesn't respond to them as it did when you were human. Cold and heat have limits that humans can endure, and for some reason vampires know those limits, but we have a higher range. I can feel cold, but I am not cold. I can feel heat, but I never truly get hot. It is a fascinating dichotomy. And one I was grateful to now because it allowed me to hold Bella and give her the illusion of warmth.

Hours had passed by the time I felt her stir against me. She had slept peacefully, only moving now that she was shaking the yoke of sleep off. It amazed me the trust she had put in me, and yet I understood it too. It was impossible not to trust her, and it seemed as though she reciprocated the feeling.

"Welcome back," I whispered, my voice automatically pitched low and intimately.

Bella blinked solemnly at me, before a smile curled about her lips and she leaned in to kiss me. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," I said, responding in kind. "Peaceful dreams?"

She giggled, "I don't remember. I would assume so, but I _was_ quite tired…"

I grinned, loving the playful way she was looking at me. It amazed me that we could be so easy with each other, now after something so momentous had passed. Briefly, I unconsciously remembered my first night with Esme, and how patient I had had to been due to her horrible history. The afterward, though neither of us could sleep, had been awkward and tentative. I was trying so hard to be considerate of her feelings that I ended up making myself feel wretched. None of that was the same with Bella.

Mates.

The voice whispered in the back of my mind, though I gave it no attention. The coming days and weeks and months would be hard enough what with Bella's coming change and her newborn year. I couldn't afford to have my attention split. I would tell Bella later. It wasn't as if it changed anything. We were already committed.

This is what I told myself, though I could hardly think the truth, even to myself. The honest and true fact of the matter was that I was scared. What if she didn't feel it? What if that binding was only one-sided, and because Bella was not a vampire she could not reciprocate it? Was I doomed to be mated to one who was not mated to me? Or would she form the bond once she was a vampire? Or had she already done so? A simple inquiry would have settled my mind, but I was not ready for the answer, be it unfavorable. And yet, I knew that our mating was mutual, it simply had to be. But it was in the space between uncertainty and knowledge that I allowed myself to hide.

Much of my reticence had to do with my own way of thinking things through and contemplating changes before they were acted upon. It went against my character to act precipitously, but fear was very real too.

So instead, I deflected. "Quite tired, hmm?" I grinned at her.

She laughed and smacked me lightly on the chest. "Are you just so proud of yourself?"

I nodded, still smirking, causing her to giggle.

"You know," she said, "you are still devastatingly attractive to me, even when you are being ever so cocky."

My smile softened, and I pulled her closer. Her body rasped against the sheets as she settled into my embrace. Tucking a strand of her mahogany hair behind her ear, I kissed her gently and said, "Any cockiness is due to the fact that it was wonderful, and we were wonderful together." Her dark brown eyes softened as I spoke. I continued, "Being with you was like…like nothing I've ever experienced before, but had always hoped for, understand? And let me set your mind at ease and say that it was the highest experience of my life, and nothing I have ever known before can compare."

She looked uneasy for a moment, opening her mouth to speak before closing it again.

"What?" I asked as I traced the divots of her spine. Her skin was like silk under my fingers. "Ask me anything. Let there be no fear between us, Isabella."

"Not even with Esme?" she asked quietly. Her face was apologetic, but there was a great desire for the truth writ plain across it.

"No," I said softly. "Not even with Esme. You have to understand, Bella, she was from a very different time. A time when women were often told that to feel pleasure in the marriage bed was a sin. Her first marriage certainly put paid to any hope she had that the opposite was true. Without betraying any confidences, I can say that all of the most horrible ways that a man could treat a woman, all the ways one could be degraded…that was Esme's experience. Much of Esme's first years as a vampire were…problematic to say the least. She had to unlearn everything that she had learned about what it meant to be in a relationship and how she saw herself.

"In many ways, I regret that I married her so quickly. I believed her when she told me she had loved me since she was a teenager, and that she was ready to marry and leave the past behind her. It was only after we were married and had left Ashland that I realized how much she had been deceiving me—and herself."

"But," Bella began, "I thought she wasn't upset about waking to find herself a vampire?"

"The two have little to do with each other, Bella," I said softly, stroking her back still. "She was happy to be a vampire and join me and Edward because it was a way out of the horrible life she was living. She was a woman—as many women had been in that time—who had always been taken care of. She went from her father's house to her husband's house, and her husband betrayed the trust she put in him horribly. When she became pregnant, it gave her an excuse to flee, but it wasn't something she wanted to do. There was no real desire for independent life. She wanted to be cared for. Much of Esme's outward caring and loving nature has to do with how she wishes to be treated."

I smiled sadly. "I mistook her gratitude and eagerness for a new life for love, as did she. It was only later when she sometimes didn't wish to be intimate, or shied away from my touch that I realized how much she truly had deceived herself. We take much of our human preferences into our new life, and I believe Esme took some much stronger than others. One was a belief that a woman was meant to endure the marriage bed, understand?"

Bella blushed softly. "I guess I always just assumed that because you were vampires…"

"What, that we had a more active sex life that normal people?"

Bella blushed again and nodded.

"I guess that is true to a certain extent," I said softly, thinking of some of the nomads I had come across over the years. Many had made their desires known, despite my lack of interest. "But just as sexual appetite changes from human to human, so it is with vampires." I paused, considering, and then said, "I loved Esme, and she loved me, but I think some problems we had in _that_ area were indicative of a larger problem. I can't help but think that with the right man some of her fears and anxieties would have been eased." _Like with Rosalie_, I thought. She had been through horrors before her change, and yet she was able to create a strong and loving sexual relationship with Emmett.

"This isn't something that you need to worry about," I told Bella softly. "There was nothing wanting, and could never be anything wanting between us. I love you, and that's an end to it."

She smiled and kissed me. "I love you too." She then got a puckish look in her eye and said lightly, "And you are right, it was satisfactory."

I pulled away and propped myself up on an elbow and gave her a disbelieving look. "Just satisfactory?"

"Well," She teased, "there was no poetry, no fireworks, but everything else worked out fine."

I gave a disbelieving snort. The earth had practically moved. Her efforts at holding back laughter made me feel so young, that I happily played along. "Poetry, hmmm?"

A memory came to me, one that I had almost forgotten about until now.

It was from that summer, that eternal summer, in Forks. Bella had been stopping through my library to return a collection of poetry to me. It had been one of my older ones. The leather of the book's binding squeaked when she had handed it back to me. I had looked at her then, not appreciating the perfection of her form or the symmetry of her face. How little I had known.

"So how did you like the book of sonnets?" I'd asked her, smiling at Bella's enthusiastic face.

"Oh, it was wonderful," Bella had said, blushing. "It is very generous of you to allow me to use your library." She then gestured down at her cast-encased leg. "I think I would go mad otherwise."

"It's no problem; I am glad you are using your summer in such an industrious manner," I had replied. Placing the book back in its proper spot on the bookcase, I'd turned to her and said, "So, which sonnet was your favorite?"

"In that book? Probably Number 42 from _Sonnets from the Portuguese_." She'd then shaken her head. "But my favorite sonnet was not included in this book."

"What's your favorite?" I had asked, intensely curious about the puzzle that was my son's human girlfriend.

"Shakespeare's Sonnet 130," she then replied, smiling.

I'd searched my mind, then had looked at her in confusion. "Are you talking about the sonnet that is a laundry list of all the ways the woman _isn't_ lovely?"

"I suppose you could look at it like that," Bella had said, "but that is not what I see in it. It is a sonnet about seeing your love for what they really are, knowing all their flaws, embracing all their faults, and loving them anyway. It is about the truest and deepest of loves. Edward likes to recite 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day' but that sonnet is about surface love, not the real kind. I think real love is when you feel just like Sonnet 130. You see everything as it is, your love as they are, and you wouldn't change a thing." Once she was finished speaking, she'd blushed heavily as if she just had realized all that she had confessed to me.

I'd stared at her in shock, unable to speak. There were many hidden depths to Isabella Swan.

Looking down at her now, I smiled in sudden inspiration. Rolling onto my belly, I quickly pinned her under me and placed my lips against hers, kissing her softly. Bella giggled, unsure what I was doing, but happy all the same.

I pressed a kiss against her stomach and looked up at her through my eyelashes. She was watching me with bated breath, and I could do naught but meet her expectations. I kissed my way up her body until I was hovering over her.

Cupping her face in my hands, I began to recite: "_My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips' red_." I gently dragged my fingers across her lips as I spoke, feeling the softness of them. They were smooth and tempting, making me yearn for a kiss.

So I took one.

Then lowering myself down her body, I gently kissed the curvature of her right breast. "_If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun_." I gently traced my way around her nipple with my tongue, refusing to take the puckered bud in my mouth. Kissing the hollow between my Isabella's breasts, I smiled up at her. Her eyes met mine for a tender moment, and I knew she understood.

Taking a lock of her long brown hair, I wrapped it around my finger as I stroked her other nipple. "_If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head_." I drew shapes and swirls on her body with my cool tongue, smiling against her skin when Bella's head began to toss in frustration. It was only then that I sucked her rosebud nipple into my mouth, swirling it around before continuing: "_I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks_."

I moved slowly downwards, kissing and swirling my tongue against her skin, pausing and maintaining no pattern. "_And in some perfumes is there more delight, than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak_," Reaching her mound, I parted her curls and spread her legs before giving her a gentle, teasing lick against her most intimate flesh which caused her to scream out. I chucked slightly, whispering, "_Yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound_."

I followed down her right leg, kissing my way to the instep of her foot. "_I grant I never saw a goddess go; my mistress when she walks treads on the ground_." I pressed a firm kiss to her right sole before blithely trading for the left. I grinned at her, and Bella gave me an answering one, but then I turned serious.

The grin slipped from my face as I crawled my way back up her body, kissing as I went. I had to make her see; to understand. I tried to give my next words as much meaning as possible. Tenderly, cherishingly, I cupped her face, gazed into her eyes, and whispered, "_And yet, by heaven, I think my love as deep…as true…as rare, as any she…belied…with false compare_."

Our eyes met in that moment, endlessly holding our gazes. I could not draw away, and I shielded nothing from her. All that I was, all I held dear, this and more, I showed her in that moment.

My fingers strayed again to her lips, gently caressing the tender, pink flesh, running my fingers over them and lightly scraping my knuckles against her teeth.

"I love you," I whispered softly.

"_How do I love thee?_" She whispered softly, "_Let me count the ways_."

I grinned because she remembered, and then I kissed her…because her lips had better uses than reciting poetry.

* * *

_BPOV_

When I woke once more, it was to the sensation of cool lips between my shoulder blades. At sometime while I slept, I had rolled over onto my stomach, and my face was pressed into the pillow. Normally, I return to consciousness slowly, with a long drag time between awake and asleep. But this, this sensation, brought me to instant wakefulness.

Cracking open one eye, I asked, "Did I fall asleep again?"

Laughing gold eyes met mine along with a self-satisfied chuckle. "What can I say? I'm good."

I giggled. "No, don't say that. It's too early, or too late depending on your point of view, to be making me laugh at absurd things."

Carlisle's bottom lip pouted. "What exactly are you trying to say? Am I not hip, am I not with it?" His nimble fingers quickly found the tickle spots on the sides of my torso.

"No, please!" I cried out, laughing hysterically. "Mercy!"

My love chucked again, before ceasing. Lying back on the bed, I looked up into his handsome face and reached up to trace his jaw. He smiled, kissing my fingers. "What have you been doing while I was sleeping? Watching me like a creeper?"

He laughed again. "No, I was just thinking about things."

I laced my fingers through his with both hands and smiled. "Oh, things. I like things; tell me about things."

"Just…" he paused, the contours of his face looking thoughtful in the shadows. "We are going to get to spend the rest of our lives together. It's a lot."

"Too much?" I asked tentatively.

"No," he said softly. "I think it's just enough. Being with you Bella, it is like starting over, indescribably wonderful." He chuckled. "And yet I continually try to find some way to tell you how I feel."

Exerting a little pressure on his arms, I pulled him down to lay beside me. Our bodies seemed to naturally align as we lay together, fitting perfectly.

"Try," I commanded softly.

He was silent for a long time, our breathing the only sound in the room, until finally he spoke, "It is hard to explain the loneliness of being a vampire. If you are without a coven, you feel continually isolated. In truth, I sometimes think that the reason that vampires like James end up the way they do is because of loneliness and time. A person might isolate themselves, and live alone, but when they reach the natural end of their lifecycle, they die. It is not so with a vampire.

"We, we unhappy few, have to continually move on, so humans cannot discover us, and for the human drinkers it is for their protection as well. It is a solitary thing, this life. I have met only a few vampires who do not feel the weight of it. A friend of mine, Alastair, has lived for just over 700 years, and sometimes I think he is as mad as a hatter. He isolates and inoculates himself with paranoia, ever fearful of the Volturi and even other vampires. Another friend of mine, Garrett, can never stay in the same place. He has no interest in my lifestyle, and yet I think he could adapt to it easily, but chooses not to because it would've meant living isolated in a house with three couples and Edward.

"When I was in Volterra," he continued softly, "I arrived just after a vampire had left his newborn stage. He was very resentful of the Volturi at first. Aro chose him because he was considered a seer by his village in Spain. Aro thought as a vampire his gift would manifest like Alice's—I count my blessings daily that he still does not know of her—but truly the newborn's gift was more like knowing things, like strengths and weaknesses of other vampires. His name was Eleazar."

I recognized the name. Carlisle had mentioned him before, and told me that they exchanged letters. I understood that he was a member of Tanya's coven, and lived in Denali, but I had not known he once worked for the Volturi. Even the name sent a shiver down my spine.

"Eleazar was a good friend," Carlisle said softly, "even then. I taught him English and he taught me Castilian and Portuguese. When you are young like that, all the world is an adventure. The things your body can do are amazing. But your mind is equally so. I was able to teach him conversational English within a month. He was like a sponge, and happy to learn. Though I think he had some noble blood in him, education was not a guarantee back then, even among the nobility. He seemed to think I was the answer to all his questions, and happily would spend days with me within the Volterra library. I was learning too, trying to take in as much as I could about the arts and the languages spoken by the Volturi that I had never heard before. It was amazing to be in a center of learning like that, surrounded by ones just like me, and yet, even then, I was terribly lonely."

He turned to look at me, his eyes meeting mine with deep conviction. "I wanted something, someone, even then to ease my loneliness."

I raised an eyebrow, smiling at him. "There was no lady amongst the guard for you?"

He smiled at me. "No, not one. Though I considered it over the years, sex without love or intimacy is an empty thing, something I had no desire for. One vampire, Charmion, can create and sever bonds, and she tried many times to create a bond between us so that I would bed her, but she cannot create love. There was another, Heidi, who has an allure that she uses to draw people to her. She offered once or twice, but when I declined she lost interest. Much of her joy comes being appreciated for her beauty, and she had little use for me after I said no. There were two other single women then, Renata and Corin, but they were so tied to Aro that they thought of little but serving him."

He dragged one finger down my nose, and smiled. "I guess I was just looking for something else. Something special." He rolled our bodies so that he was on top of me.

"And have you found it?" I asked, looking up into his onyx eyes, love filling my own.

"Without question," he replied.

"Kiss me," I demanded.

"Gladly," he replied.

He plundered my lips, settling once again between my thighs. Very quickly desire filled me once more and I wondered at Carlisle's ability to make me want him so completely. What was it that he had over me? Why did I respond to him in a way I had not known myself to be capable of? Here I was, only hours after my first intimate encounter and though I was sore, I still wanted to continue.

When we pulled apart, I was panting softly.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, gently stroking the pad of his thumb across my cheek bone.

I smiled, and then yawned, unable to fight the exhaustion of my body. Catnaps were only sufficient for so long.

Carlisle chuckled. "Have I been keeping you up?"

I nodded, yawing once more.

"Rest," he said, pulling me gently into his embrace. "This will all be still here when you wake."

"Carlisle, tell me about Volterra," I requested, settling into his embrace and closing my eyes.

"In the heart of Tuscany, lies a city that was founded with the Etruscans…"

His voice lulled me back to sleep, and sent me to my dreams.

…

_I am not as I once was._

_The girl I was has been altered somehow, rearranged and put back together differently. She is not what she once was; I am not what I once was._

_The forest is thick; full of ancient oaks and soaring pines and leaning palms: trees that cannot go together anywhere but in a dream. I can hear the call of the animals: the parrot sings along with the owl. Beneath my feet the ground is cold and wet, and yet I know that it is not as cold as it might be. Something has changed._

_I have changed._

_I run._

_What was once a blur in another's arms is now distinct and clear. I leap and scale, jumping from branch to branch and trunk to trunk before landing back on the ground and taking off in a new direction. My feet make no impression in the ground or in the mud, as if they are not touching the earth long enough to leave a marker of their existence behind._

_There is no sun breaking through, and yet it is not dark. The sky is not visible, hidden by a canopy of tree limbs, but it seems right somehow, like being called home._

_I know this place._

_Ahead, the endless forest opens into a meadow beneath a clouded sky, yet not one that I have ever seen before. But it is important. I know that. Something is going to happen here; something shall be witnessed._

_My running legs take me into the middle of the open field, and I pause._

_Light breaks through the cloud bank, streaking across the meadow in shafts. One lands on my arm._

_Something is different; something has changed._

_I am sparkling._

_Crystalline rainbows dance across my skin and I laugh, spinning round and trying to catch the sunlight with my torso. I know this too. I have seen beauty like this before, masculine beauty that belonged to another. But it belongs to me now, and I smile and dance with the light._

_Eventually my twirling stops and I realize…I am not alone._

_I barely make the decision to turn before it is done._

_My eyes see clearly for the first time._

_He stands at the edge of my clearing, smiling at me and waiting patiently for me to summon him._

_I like that. I like him. He is all that is wonderful and beautiful and magical in the world and he is mine. He is mine and I am his, and this is a truth that even the trees know._

_I smile, and he comes._

_He stalks into the light, ignoring the moments when the shafts of light hit his skin, determinedly walking towards me._

_"Having fun, my love?"_

_Oh yes, I remember this now. He is my love. My love is mine and I am his._

_"I am sparkling in the sunlight," I sing at him. Stretching out a hand, I ask, "Join me?"_

_He laughs, before joining me in the patches of sunlight that crisscross our bodies. "You are beautiful," he says. "But then, I always knew you would be. I think you were born for this, Bella. You were meant to be a vampire."_

_Bella._

_Bella, you were meant to be a vampire._

_Bella._

_I am Bella._

_I remember now, and I want to dance in my joy. I am Bella and he is Carlisle, and we are love._

_I giggle and laugh, and Carlisle spins me around to the sounds of my joy._

_"Can they join us now, love? They have been waiting patiently."_

_I don't understand him. There is only us, and yet he beckons to the trees, as if something can see him._

_Something does._

_From the brush walk out a boy and girl, holding hands as they walk towards us. They look like babies, yet babies don't have that type of expression on their face. They smile at me and my love, as if we know them, and I feel confusion in my frame as I look into their sweet little faces._

_The boy is like Carlisle in his features. That much is clear from looking at him, and yet he has chocolate curls on his head. His eyes are bright blue, and I wonder where those came from. His skin is pale, and there is something about it which fills me with familiarity._

_The little girl, on the other hand, shares her hair color with Carlisle, and nothing else. Her face reminds me of pictures I once saw, but I can't remember why. I think she is beautiful, a perfect doll. Though her eyes are blue, they tend more towards violet than the clear blue of her brother's._

_Her brother's?_

_Why have I assumed they are related?_

_But as soon as I question that thought, I can see the resemblance. They share skin color, and the shapes of their faces. Their eyes are the same shape, and their mouths are perfect replicas. They share height, and from looking at them, age as well._

_Twins, then._

_And then I remember. Twins, yes, now I remember everything. I remember the broken bones and the blood. I remember the pain in my love's eyes, and the fear too. I remember the venom and the screaming._

_My screaming as I brought them into this world._

_They are mine._

_Blood of my blood, and flesh of my flesh. My children and twins who I loved more than my own life._

_My loves, my babies. I open my arms and they run forward._

_"Momma!"_

_It is the sweetest sound in the world._

_"You're awake!" the boy says._

_"We waited patiently," the girl adds, jutting out her bottom lip. "I didn't like it."_

_"Waiting is over, my little ones," I say, kissing their rosy cheeks and basking in the sounds of their fast-beating little hearts._

_"Papa said we had to wait and then you would wake," the boy says. He smiled adoringly up at Carlisle, who returns the smile to his son before scooping him up in his arms._

_"And he did a wonderful job," Carlisle says, with a laugh. "Isn't that right, my little red-breast?"_

_The boy nods solemnly._

_The girl smiles at me becomingly, lifting her arms in that universal gesture of children wanting to be held. I lift her into my arms and smile when my nostrils are filled with her scent. She smells nothing like food, more like home and the scent of my love._

_Something tells me that they are walking and talking too quickly. But in that wonderful meadow I do not worry._

_"And you, my sacred rose? Did you wait patiently?"_

_She lays her curly golden head on my shoulder and looks at me with her violet eyes. "I tried, Momma, but it was hard."_

_I laugh and kiss her brow._

_"We should go back," Carlisle says, smiling. "The others are waiting for us, and I know they want to see you."_

_I clutch my golden daughter tighter to me, not ready to share her just yet. "Are they?" I ask. "I suppose they have been helping you with the twins."_

_"Yes," he says softly, glancing at our beautiful cherubs. "But I know they wanted you."_

_"Put me down, Papa! I want to walk!" the boys says, squirming in his father's arms._

_As Carlisle puts him down, I see a bracelet on his wrist with the letters RCC on it. I look down and see that the little girl in my arms has a matching one with the letters ICC on it._

_"Put me down too, Momma," my daughter says. "I want to run!"_

_I do as she asks and soon she and her twin are running ahead of us. My love takes my hand, and I smile at him._

_He lifts our joined fingers to his mouth and kisses them, causing the rights on my finger to catch a flash of sunlight._

_I turn back to call for the children, and they are no longer there. In their place are preteens, laughing and running ahead._

_When did they grow so much? I only turned away for a minute._

_"Did they…?"_

_Carlisle meets my confused eyes and smiles. "You slept and missed so much."_

_I look forward again and adults stand in the place of my children. I want to cry, but they are so beautiful and the tears won't come._

_Vampires can't cry._

_The boy is a man now, and he is beautiful. He looks like his father and smiles at me as if he can tell me a secret. The girl is a woman, grown now too, and she looks so familiar. Her face and form match my own, but for her eyes and blond curls._

_My son and daughter: named for the fallen solider and the two mothers._

_I want to call to them to come back, to stop them from walking so quickly._

_Time is slipping away from me…and so are they._

_I open my mouth to summon them back, when I choke on a scream._

_From out of the dense foliage, emerges a shadow._

_The shadow reveals itself to be dark figures, hooded and cloaked. There are three of them, and the one in the middle raises a pale and pointed hand at me in an accusing manner._

_The two on the sides seize my grown children by the neck._

_I scream and start to run, when bands of steel hold me back. They are my husband's arms._

_"No sudden movements," he hisses. "Not when they have our children."_

_The middle figure removes his hood, and reveals a pale face. A face I can barely remember from a painting I had seen. "Isabella Cullen, you have been found guilty of breaking the laws of our world, the penalty for which is death."_

_Carlisle is suddenly yanked away from me, and it is only then that I realize our folly. They had come at us from behind as well._

_The cloaked figures are everywhere, surrounding us and cutting off our only ways of escape. My husband, my son, and my daughter were all in the hands of these hooded monsters._

_Volturi._

_I spat the name in my mind. It was a cursed one and I knew it well._

_"Kill me then," I say to the silent clearing. "And then let my family go. I alone am guilty of the crime."_

_"We do not make deals," the raven-haired vampire says. He then grins at me and I feel the venom in my veins turn to ice. "Besides, this is meant to be a punishment. However will you learn if you are dead?"_

_I can do nothing but scream and watch as my family is ripped to pieces and scattered on the forest floor. Blood and venom run through the tall grass, and the only sounds are my own helpless cries of defeat._

_Even the birds have gone silent._

_There is a flash of fire, and then all that I love are ashes._

_The raven man smiles at me and leers, "Have you learned your lesson, Isabella?"_

_I sob and shake and fall to the ground._

_I wanted nothing more that to go back and stop this from ever happening._

_I want to undo whatever mistake brought these monsters to my door._

_I want back my loving husband, and my boy, and my girl, and our future._

_So I run._

_The ground flies away under my feet._

_Blood is all that remains, and none of it my own._

_I am not as I once was._

…

And then I woke.

* * *

_Okay, so I think this chapter answers where this fic is going. I won't be offended if I lose some readers, as I know that many people don't like baby fics. I wanted to try one, however, and I think it will be fun. I am going to stick to canon and try to make it fit seamlessly into my story. I will say, though, that I think I have given ample hints along the way that this was coming. I had always planned to do this, and I have had reviewers asking me from the beginning if they were reading my hints correctly. The writer's block came from events that will come later; believe me when I say you will know when you get there._

_In the little dream sequence, I gave away many details and things that will be significant later. Close readers might be able to deduce the baby names, along with the future plot of the story. Was the dream a glimpse of the future, or simply a coincidence? You decide. I wanted to mimic the dream Bella had in Breaking Dawn, but slightly altered._

_The Sonnet that Carlisle recites is Shakespeare's 130. The line that Bella recites back is Sonnet 42 from Sonnets from the Portuguese by __Elizabeth Barrett Browning__. _

_Fun fact: Charmion is actually Chelsea. According to the illustrated guide, she didn't change her name to Chelsea until the 1950s, so Carlisle would know her by her original name, or whatever pseudonym she was going by at the time. There is also no mention of when Afton comes along, so I chose him coming after Carlisle leaves the Volturi. All the info I used on Eleazar and the Volturi was from the Illustrated Guide, with some expansions and explanations provided by me._

* * *

_End_ _Part One: Time Present and Time Past_

_To be continued in Part Two_: _In My End Is My Beginning_


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